Diary of a Protected Witness
by snowdragonct
Summary: Ever wonder what was running through Duo's mind at certain points in "Witness Protection?" Here are snippets of his point of view...a companion fic, that will not rehash the entire plot, but offer a new perspective on certain events.
1. Losing It All

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter One: Losing it All

Dear Diary:

Well, life officially sucks again. Not that it should surprise me, since it always seems to flow downhill, but this time the fall was much further than usual.

We'd just gotten back together, Zechs and me, and he took me back to his place and we made love and then made supper and then made love again. It was great. He was great. And being back in his arms and in his bed was enough to make me feel like I could do anything.

Anything except save his life when he needed me the most.

God, why did Treize have to show up? And what was he talking about—Zechs betraying him—betraying Oz? Never happened.

I can't believe he's dead.

When Treize pulled the trigger, I felt like that bullet went straight through my gut. The pain was—indescribable. And to see them just drop Zechs' body on the floor—like he was nothing. God!

I might've stood there all night staring in shock, except that Trant said something about dishes in the kitchen sink, and I realized they'd see the two wine glasses and two plates, and, well, put two and two together.

I went out the window. The damned squeaky window! But I remembered to leave it open a bit, so it wouldn't make noise and alert them.

It wasn't until the rain hit my skin through the thin fabric of my shirt that I realized how completely unprepared I was. I climbed the fire escape, hands slipping on the wet railing, and made it to the roof, by which time I was shivering like crazy. It was freakin' cold up there—the rain beating down—practically freezing, it was so cold.

All I could think was—I had to hide. If Khushrenada remembered me—and I had no doubt he would—he'd be able to track me down in a heartbeat. The Jungle and Sanc were off-limits, as was my apartment. So, where to go?

Trowa's.

When I pounded desperately on his door, it only took him seconds to open it, though judging from the baseball bat clutched in his hand, he hadn't been expecting anyone. He must've just gotten in from work.

"What the hell—?"

I flung myself against him, clutching at his shirt and sobbing for breath.

"Duo? What the fuck—?"

"He's dead, Tro'," I heard myself say, my voice so hoarse it sounded like I'd been strangled.

"What? Who?" Trowa pulled me inside, kicking the door shut and then holding me at arm's length and pushing the wet hair out of my eyes. "Jesus, Shini—you're freezing!"

I nodded, my teeth chattering, as Trowa began unbuttoning my soaked shirt.

"You need outta these wet clothes! God, Duo—what happened to you?"

"He's dead."

Trowa paused, halfway through dragging my shirt off of my damp skin. "Who is?"

"Zechs."

The green eyes went wide and Trowa sank back against the wall. "Zechs?" he breathed in horror—in disbelief. "When? How?"

"Tonight—I don't know how long ago—." I shook my head, the trembling spreading from my hands up into my entire body. "Jesus, Tro'. He's dead! Zechs is dead!" I still couldn't believe it—couldn't grasp that I'd never run my hands through that gorgeous blonde mane again—never feel him thrust into me—or feel his lips around my cock. "Oh fuck—he's dead!"

I found myself clutched in arms that held tightly, as if trying to keep me from scattering into a million pieces. I don't know if I cried, or what happened next, because I couldn't seem to make myself breathe—and then everything sort of faded to black.

When I woke up, I was in bed—with Trowa still wrapped around me.

The heavy drapes that my nocturnal friend used to keep out daylight when he wanted to sleep, were drawn so tightly that not a sliver of light crept in—though it had to be morning long since.

And despite a moment of confusion, I returned to reality all too fast, sucking in a sharp, painful breath.

"Shh, love. I'm here."

Trowa's voice—soothing as ever.

"What—what should I do?"

"First, tell me everything. Then we'll figure out how to deal with it."

So—I told him. I told him how the evening had gone perfectly, until that stupid midnight wakeup call. And how, from there, it all went to Hell.

Treize Khushrenada somehow thought Zechs had betrayed him to the police. And in retribution, he blew his brains out in the front hallway of that penthouse.

And I was next.


	2. Busted

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: Per a request from a friend (whispurr267), I will make chapter references, so readers can refresh their memories of the events Duo describes...this one takes place in chapter five.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Two: Busted

It just keeps getting worse. Every plan I make blows up in my face. Case in point:

Trowa hid me in his apartment until payday. So far, so good.

The _plan_ was that I'd pick up my check from The Sanc Palace and then get my ass out of town until things quieted down. Loosely translated, that meant that once the police called it quits on Zechs' murder, I might be able to slink back in and hope for a dark night and a secluded alley, where I could give Khushrenada a taste of his own medicine.

Yeah, I was a street rat. Revenge was a way of life. When someone fucked you over, or did it to someone important to you—you had to bide your time and wait for the chance to return the favor.

And I wanted to return it really badly.

Y'see—Zechs Merquise had been my future. My fuckin' knight in shining armor. He was gonna take me away from the gutter I'd grown up in and never strayed far from, and together we were gonna make a new life.

Treize Khushrenada stole all that from me. He stole my lover, my benefactor, and my ticket out of Hell.

I'm not sayin' that's all Zechs was to me—I fuckin' loved the guy. I really did. He was classy and elegant, but had a sense of humor that wouldn't quit. He was raw power—sex on legs—a stone-cold killer when it came to business negotiations—and yet a passionate and romantic lover.

He took my breath away, and made me feel like a novice at things I'd been doing in bed since I was sixteen. I felt—almost unworthy around him—as if he was so much more than I deserved.

He was everything I wasn't—refined, elegant, rich and respected. And yet, he laid his heart at my feet and romanced the living shit out of me. Yeah, _me_. The street rat. The former punk and druggie and gang-banger. The stripper.

And he made me feel like a jewel on his hand—like he wanted to show me off and pamper me.

Sometimes it almost pissed me off—the way he tried to spoil me. I didn't want to be just a kept man. I wanted equality and respect. I wanted to be worthy of him, and to feel like I had as much to give, as to receive.

And I was getting there. I was fuckin' close to feeling like I belonged with a man like Zechs. I could make him beg in bed (or out of it, for that matter). I could whip up a meal that made his eyes light up and then close in pleasure as he sampled my cooking. I really felt like our dream of running off together could happen—and that we'd have our "happily ever after" ending.

And then Treize fuckin' Khushrenada came along and blew it all away.

To say I was pissed was an understatement.

I planned my escape—and my revenge—with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

And I'd have succeeded, too—if it weren't for the cops that showed up at Sanc just as I was slipping out the back.

Yeah, Dermail wasn't happy when I quit. But having heard about Zechs, I think he had an inkling that I wouldn't stay on. He must've figured I'd go back to The Jungle and take up stripping again—and it wasn't a bad idea. Tro' an' me were good together—and we put on a helluva show.

But there was that whole "witnessing Zechs' murder and needing to run for my life" thing preventing it. No—I needed to find a deep dark hole in which to hide.

Shouldn't have stopped to say "so long" to Hilde and the other gals.

"Duo Maxwell?"

The gleam of that badge from down the hallway was enough to send me running for cover. But the blue-eyed cop was as relentless as a bulldog—chasing me for God only knew how many blocks.

I was running on empty when his partner pulled the car up in front of me and I ended up flat across the hood, with the wind knocked completely out of me.

But when I caught a glimpse of those killer blue eyes as the "bulldog" cuffed me and dragged me upright so he could frisk me, I went back three years in time, remembering the same breathtaking eyes on a cop who called me a hooker.

I could feel his hands running down my arms and legs, deftly slipping my concealed weapons from their sheaths—but I was seeing him from a long time past, the spark in his eyes turning to fire as I spit in his face. And when his hand stroked down the front of my chest, I couldn't help but get turned on by the strength in that touch.

"Who knew you were into handcuffs and leather?"

Shit—if he only knew.

It wasn't just the cuffs, or even the distance we'd run that had me panting—it was _him_. Of all the cops I'd ever had the misfortune to encounter, he was the only one who'd ever evoked anything but hatred and scorn from me. Those piercing blue eyes had stuck in my mind since that day in the squad room, when he'd called me a hooker and I'd goaded him into giving me a black eye.

Pretty sick, huh? To still have a bit of a "thing" for a guy who'd thought I was lower than pond scum—a guy who knocked me on my ass the first time we met. But there it was—and here we were—and part of me wanted to be closer to him, while the rest of me wished I'd been able to keep running.


	3. Interrogation

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits into chapters five and six of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Three: Interrogation

And the day kept gettin' better and better…not!

There I was in an uncomfortable metal chair, my wrists still locked behind me, trying to keep a defiant attitude in the face of the gorgeous blue-eyed cop.

"Is Quatre Winner still the public defender around here?"

"Sometimes."

"I want him."

"Literally or figuratively?"

I gave him my best leer. "Hm—both, I suppose. He's a very pretty kid."

He was, too. Quatre was downright beautiful. He was also my attorney, on the infrequent occasions I needed one these days. I hadn't been in any real trouble in nearly two years. Mostly since meeting Trowa.

Yeah, my friend with benefits had precipitated a real turning point in my fucked up life. Trowa wasn't into drugs or crime, and he didn't like the fact that I was. And since I'd wanted to get that hot body into my bed, I'd jumped through a few hoops for him. I'd cleaned up my act, kicked the drug habit—at least the hard stuff—and let him coax me into working at the same club where he did.

Which was how I met Zechs—the next big turning point in my life.

Zechs taught me how to walk into a five star restaurant like I belonged there, and how to make love in the back seat of a limo. He taught me the difference between oregano and thyme, and which foods they were meant to flavor. Hell—he taught me how the same spaghetti sauce can taste three different ways, depending on which herbs you used and what kind of tomatoes were in it. He taught me what it felt like to surrender completely to someone—and what it felt like to totally dominate that same someone.

And he was dead. Gone forever. Along with a shitload of hopes and dreams.

Which left me sitting there on that goddamned uncomfortable chair, flirting shamelessly with a hot, blue-eyed detective to try to keep him from finding out I'd seen the most powerful man in the country murder my lover.

I gotta say, he was good. Damned good. I don't know why I let him lure me into a conversation at all, but he knew how to push just about every one of my buttons. He brought up the Reapers, as if he knew that would get under my skin—which it did.

And then he shifted gears, going back to the night of the murder and getting me so flustered that I blurted out the fact that I didn't own a gun. I knew it was a mistake the second the words slipped out. And when I reminded him I'd asked for a lawyer, he blindsided me _again_.

"You saw the killer."

Fuck! How the hell did I let him back me into a corner like that? Why was I losing myself in the depths of those intense eyes when I should be focusing on how much I wanted out of those handcuffs so I could hightail it out of town?

"I got nothin' to say to you!"

Bullshit. It was unadulterated bullshit and bravado, and he saw right through me. He knew I'd seen it all—knew how I'd escaped the penthouse. He knew everything except who had pulled the trigger. I was afraid if I kept talking, he'd have that information next!

"Go fuck yourself. I asked for a fuckin' lawyer, and this little chat session is over until one shows up."

When he threatened to charge me with murder, I knew he could make it stick. I mean, shit. My DNA was all over Zechs' place—the wineglasses, the cigarettes in the ashtray, and of course, the sheets in the bed. God—the bed.

I was never gonna get to feel that again—the way Zechs would throw aside the comforter, frantic to get me on my back, practically growling with lust—the way he'd groan in ecstasy as he sank into me. And the tender way he'd turn my face so I had to look right at him while we made love—. He said he wanted to know his was the only face I saw—that my mind and my body were both focused on him—that there was no other lover in my mind's eye, while he was in my body.

God, the man could make you come just by talkin' like that.

I'd tell him it was romantic bullshit, and he'd glare and kiss me so hard I could barely breathe. And then he'd tease and torment me until I swore he was the only one—in my heart and in my bed—before he'd let me come.

Fuckin' sadist. Sweet, gorgeous, romantic sadist.

Yeah, I had it pretty bad for him.

Anyhow, by the time Quatre got there, I was fed up with the cuffs, the cops, and the butt-torturing chair in that interrogation room.

I was tired, hungry, and more than a little pissed at the whole situation. I'd had plenty of time to revisit the murder in my head, and toy with scenarios of how Khushrenada was gonna hunt my ass down and kill me. I wanted out, and I wanted to hit the road—fast.

When Yuy tried yet another delaying tactic by saying someone was coming up from the forensics lab for a sample of my DNA, I'd had all I could take.

Spitting on his paperwork was just a tiny bit of payback for the bullshit he'd put me through. And it was a way to remind him of the first time we met—as if he'd thought I forgot him?

How could I forget a pair of eyes so blue?


	4. Getting the Message

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This happens during chapters seven and eight of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Four: Getting the Message

There's nothing like receiving an hour-long lecture from a lawyer to brighten your day.

Or maybe it was night—I guess it was the wee small hours of the morning when Quatre graciously coerced me into accepting a ride home and then proceeded to deliver a lengthy dissertation on why I should consider changing my mind and telling the cops I'd seen Khushrenada pull the trigger.

I proceeded to counter his arguments with my own.

He said the truth needed to be told—that a murderer couldn't be allowed to get away with it.

I said he'd _already_ gotten away with it, or the cops would've been knocking at his door instead of mine.

He pointed out how vulnerable I'd be out on my own if Khushrenada figured out I'd been in that penthouse.

I pointed out how vulnerable I'd be locked up in police custody if he figured out I'd been in that penthouse. Zechs had always said his boss kept plenty of cops on the payroll—cops who'd be happy to take me out for him at a moment's notice.

Quatre then went on at even greater length about how easy it would be for the cops to pin the crime on _me_, if they so chose.

I—didn't have a good answer for that one. He was right. But I was tired and angry and just not up to listening to the voice of reason—no matter how prettily it was packaged.

Like I said, he was easy on the eyes.

So anyhow, he was nice enough to drop me off at Trowa's place once the sermon ended.

He did manage to get me to promise to come to his office the next day, so he could explain the pros and cons again, and get me to make a formal statement, just to cover my ass. And then he drove off in his cute little BMW convertible, and I watched an unmarked police car slide into a parking spot a block down the street.

_Suckers._

I decided to take a little stroll around the neighborhood—ditching the loser cops within the first half hour—before sneaking into Trowa's apartment building via the fire escape, and letting myself into his place with my lock pick.

When he got home just after dawn, I was still wide awake—too tense to sleep, especially when it was the time I normally was at work.

He didn't seem surprised to see me, either.

"I take it your plan to skip town fell through."

Ya gotta love his dry sense of humor—really.

"Cops showed up at Sanc and dragged me downtown," I admitted.

"They came to The Jungle first. Noin must've told 'em where you were working. God knows _I _didn't."

I frowned. "They grilled you too?"

"Yeah. I told 'em we used to be fuck buddies and that you were with Zechs now. That's all."

I shared a wan smile with him. "We were a lot more than that—but it's good you didn't tell them. You don't need to be part of this mess."

Those deep green eyes turned a worried look towards me. "Jesus, Duo. How much trouble are you in? Did they accuse you of killing Zechs?"

"Yes and no. They seemed to have figured out I was a witness, rather than the perp. But they were talkin' about booking me, if I didn't cooperate."

"Did you?"

I gave a skeptical snort. "Me? Give the cops the time of day? Shit, Tro', you know me better than that." I leaned on the counter, watching him take a beer out of his fridge.

He opened it and took a swig, before passing it to me. "So—how come you're out?"

"My public defender got 'em to cut me loose…speakin' of which, I've gotta go see him later in the afternoon. Any chance you could drive me over there? My bike's still parked at Sanc."

"Sure. I'm not working until after nine."

We shared a beer, stripped down and went to bed. Not like it's the first time I ever shared a bed with Trowa. He was the guy who taught me how to really enjoy sex for the first time ever.

While Solo an' I played around and experimented, we'd never gone further than hand jobs or blow jobs. And after he died, while I was pretty promiscuous, I never bottomed for anyone—and the whole point of sex was just about having a good time and finding a little release now an' then.

And then I met Trowa.

I'd gone to the circus as a chaperone for the orphanage—and don't even ask how Father Maxwell conned me into that. I'm still not sure. I just sort of bumped into him on the street one day, kind of strung out and half-starving, and he invited me back to the old homestead for a meal.

Next thing I knew, I was playing ball with a bunch of scrawny little kids on weekends, and then going along on field trips as a chaperone.

Me. A chaperone.

Fuckin' insane, huh?

But there it was. And that's how I first saw Trowa, working in the ring with the lions—getting them to jump through rings of fire, with just this little whip-thing in his hand, and a really fierce look in his eyes.

He was hotter than Hell. All lean, supple muscle and nerves of steel.

I snuck backstage to get a closer look. I told him I wanted to see the big cats—but really, it was him.

Honestly, I don't think he was fooled by my lame excuse. But he humored me—introduced me to the lions and leopards—and told me to come back again soon.

So I did.

I went back just about every weekend after that. It didn't take him long to figure out what I really wanted.

We got to be a regular thing, Tro' and me. And to tell the truth, he was really good for me. He made me give up the drugs—except a little weed now an' then—and he taught me a few marketable skills around the circus.

And he taught me how to really enjoy sex.

Not that it hadn't been okay before. But he taught me how to _really _enjoy it. We had a great time, the two of us. I learned positions I never knew existed—top, bottom, sixty-nine—you name it an' we tried it. Repeatedly. He had a body that wouldn't quit, stamina that was just phenomenal, and a willingness to experiment that let us freakin' enjoy the hell out of each other.

And when I was thinking about getting a job and trying to be more than a street punk and thief, Trowa taught me exotic dancing and got me into The Jungle to meet Ms. Noin.

Next thing I knew, I was one of the most popular strippers in the club—next to Trowa, that is. And when we worked as a pair—they just went wild over us. Shinigami and Nanashi—the Big Cats. We were practically celebrities.

I'd never had money before—and I have to admit, it kind of went to my head for awhile, and I got back into drugs in a big way. But once again, Trowa was there to talk me back onto the straight and narrow.

He was sneaky about it, too. I'd seen a sleek, black motorcycle I was just about drooling over, and he pointed out that if I gave up the drugs, I could afford payments on a bike like that one. Damned if he wasn't right about that.

Now, here's the weird thing about me and Tro'. For all that we enjoyed the hell out of each other's bodies—we never ended up in love. I guess it was really strong "like?" I dunno.

I mean, I think I was kind of gun shy about the term "love." I'd thought I had it with Solo, and he'd gone and dumped me for some pretty little uptown girl. And then he'd ended up dead a few months later.

I think what I felt for Trowa might've been love—only I wasn't about to admit it. And we kind of made a deal at the start that neither of us was looking for anything exclusive or binding.

There were times I thought about asking if we could change that deal. But I never got up the nerve.

Hell—maybe Trowa felt the same way. But we both kept pretending there was something _more _out there somewhere. And then I met Zechs, and I started to realize what the "more" was.

While I was comfortable with Trowa, and we were compatible—neither one of us ever really lost control. We didn't make each other crazy with lust or desperate for one another's touch. It was always pleasurable and fun and really, really hot—without being all-consuming.

Zechs—he was the very definition of "all-consuming." There was no way he'd settle for less than everything. And to my surprise, I found I wanted to give it to him. I wanted to give _myself _to him.

Can you see why the desire to kill Treize Khushrenada was quickly becoming an obsession for me?

Anyhow, to get back to the story, Tro' and I went to bed. And we didn't have sex or anything. But it felt pretty good to curl up against him and feel the comfort of a familiar touch. He was still the best friend I'd ever had, bar none.

Which is why, when we were leaving Quatre's office that afternoon and his car blew up, I finally realized I had to do something to protect my loved ones from Khushrenada.


	5. Cooperation

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters eight and nine of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Five: Cooperation

I knew Khushrenada meant business the moment the shock wave of the explosion threw me back into Quatre, who ended up sort of sandwiched between me an' Trowa. The three of us were sprawled on the sidewalk, with debris raining down and ears ringing from the sound of the blast, even as the sirens began to wail in the distance.

Fucking Hell!

The day had started out so nicely, too. I'd woken up in Trowa's arms, feeling deceptively safe and secure.

We'd grabbed a shower and a bite to eat, and then headed to Quatre's office.

Trowa owned an old clunker of a car, and I teased him about it pretty mercilessly. It ran like a dream, because he an' I both enjoyed tinkering—but it didn't look like anything special.

While I hadda have my sleek crotch rocket—my best friend was content with a nondescript, reliable two-door sedan.

That's probably for the best, considering what happened to it.

Anyhow—when we'd gotten to the office, and Quatre laid eyes on Trowa, I swear, I saw a trickle of drool slip out the side of his mouth.

Well, well…the little blonde angel was smitten, unless I missed my guess.

And a quick, sidelong glance at Trowa showed me the interest was mutual.

Hm. My stomach made a curious little twist, as I wondered if Trowa was just looking for a taste of the hot blonde, or maybe something a little more—serious. Was this what _jealousy_ felt like? If so, it was a fuckin' unpleasant feeling. I'd never been the jealous type, and didn't want to become that way now…on top of which, Trowa wasn't mine…had never _been _mine.

Like I said, we'd never been exclusive. Trowa had dated, and presumably fucked, other guys during our time together, and I'd done the same—although in the months just prior to my hooking up with Zechs, neither one of us had sought any "outside entertainment." Why should we, when we had each other close at hand and willing?

Besides, Trowa had been hurt pretty badly once, before I met him—by a guy he'd really fallen for, who dumped him when he found out what my buddy did for work—outside of the circus, that is. He was kind of gun shy after that, and it was probably part of why he and I kept our relationship casual. As long as no promises were made, neither one of us risked the pain of rejection. We were just kind of there for each other—unconditional friendship and sometimes sex for recreation or release, or just plain comfort.

Even after I started seeing Zechs, Trowa and I were still fuck-buddies—until it got serious enough that Zechs actually asked me to be exclusive. And I sure as hell didn't make that commitment lightly. I made sure Trowa supported my decision before I made it—that he was okay with us being just friends and skipping the sex, since it seemed to matter so much to Zechs.

But, shit. Catching a wistful gleam in Trowa's eyes the likes of which I hadn't seen before, I found myself glaring at the lawyer, wondering if I was gonna have to protect my friend's heart, should it come to that. I didn't care who Quatre was, or how much pull he had; if he screwed over my friend, I'd make sure he paid for it in spades.

"—and you are?"

"Trowa Barton. Duo's friend."

"Ah, good. Maybe you can help me talk sense to him."

"It's never worked before."

They had a laugh over that, and I glared harder. "Look, Quat, I fuckin' hate cops. I'd refuse to cooperate just on principal. But seriously, I don't trust them to watch my back. I'm better off just takin' off on my own until things cool down. Khushrenada will eventually realize I'm not gonna rat him out—and whether he thinks I was in the penthouse or not, he'll have no reason to try to shut me up."

"I'm afraid that's not how he'll see it, Duo. As long as he believes you can bear witness to what he did, he'll want you silenced—permanently."

"Yeah, well—he's gotta catch me first."

He tried to convince me; I'll give him that. And Quatre Winner certainly had a silver tongue. (Naw, I didn't let my thoughts stray _there_—not after seeing the way Tro' was lookin' at him. Far be it from me to cock-block my best friend, let alone try to steal someone out from under him.)

But woe to Mister Winner if he thought he could charm my buddy, love him and leave him! That wasn't going to happen on my watch either. I guess it kind of depended on what Trowa wanted from the pretty blonde lawyer, and I figured I could pry that out of him later.

Meanwhile, I took a possessive grip on Trowa's arm as we left the office, eager to show the attorney that the guy he was ogling had someone who cared about him—and who owned a sizeable knife collection.

* * *

And then the world exploded.

Well, actually, it was just Trowa's car—but from the force of the blast, I'm surprised it didn't take out a building or two.

I lay there dazed on the sidewalk, waiting for the world to come back into focus, and felt something running into my eyes.

I reached up to my forehead only to have my hand come away sticky and red, and Quatre rolled me onto my back, his blue eyes concerned.

"You're bleeding, Duo! Lie still."

"Tro'?"

"He's—unconscious, I think. His head might have hit the sidewalk. Just lie still—I hear sirens. Someone must have called for an ambulance."

"You okay, Quat?"

"I'm fine. I think Trowa broke my fall."

I managed a weak smile for him, reaching blindly out until my hand found Trowa's, and I could slide it down to his wrist and check for a pulse. It was strong and steady, in spite of everything, and I let myself relax and feel the aches begin to settle in.

The next couple of hours were kind of a blur…the rush of feet as an ambulance crew arrived on the scene…more sirens…and Quatre's calm, steady voice explaining what happened…insisting we be taken to a hospital.

When we got there, I was whisked away to an examining room, poked, prodded, and felt up, until I told the docs I'd have to start charging if they got any more personal. I got a laugh from an intern; but I think I pissed off the medic who stitched the cut on my forehead.

And then I was settled into a hospital bed, and totally ignored.

I tried to get the nurses who popped in every once in a while to tell me how Trowa was—but they weren't talking. They just shushed me and told me I'd be able to see my friend later, but that tests were still being done. Bitches.

But finally Quatre came, and I was never so happy to see anyone in my life.

At least until I looked past him and saw the two cops from the night before. "You! Get the fuck out!"

But I wasn't going to be rid of the scowling cop that easily. He was gonna make an issue of the car bomb, whether I wanted it or not. And there was no way I could dodge Khushrenada if I was in lockup.

I still gave Quatre an argument; I really hated cops, and cooperating with them just made me feel like I was selling out Solo, and the rest of the Reapers.

It was Trowa who finally made me see reason. When he suggested that the kids at the orphanage could be hurt if I stuck around and Khushrenada tried again, it was more than I could take.

"Okay, Quat. You win. I'll tell the cops what happened, and I'll be their witness in court."

If I'd known how much that was going to entail, I might've changed my mind right then and there—but I didn't. And when Yuy looked at me with that triumphant gleam in his eyes, I pretty much knew I was hooked.

My head was killin' me—but I couldn't resist teasing the cop about having sex with Zechs the night he was killed. Well, I didn't really get to talk about it; he cut me off too fast. But I definitely enjoyed the way it made his eyes widen and a faint blush creep up his cheeks.

And I think Winner kind of got a kick out of it, too.

Then I settled down to business and told him how Zechs died.

When his jaw nearly hit the floor, I realized he'd been thinking all along that it was one of Khushrenada's lackeys who did the deed. But finding out it was the big man himself nearly gave him a coronary.

And it made him real protective of me all at once.

Well, wasn't that a switch? Cops worried about _my _sorry little ass? The world was just a topsy-turvy place these days.

After he got over the shock, and Quatre calmed me down—yeah, talking about Zechs choked me up; so sue me—Yuy said something about lining up protection for me. I think that was when it all started to get very real.

I was going to run and hide—something I was pretty good at. But it wasn't going to be on my terms. I was going to be in police custody—with police protection and supervision. And that notion didn't appeal to me at all.

It appealed to me even less the next day when I was told it was Chang and Yuy who were assigned to escort me into hiding.

Bad enough the Chinese cop talked to me like I was stupid—but Yuy! I mean, the fucker'd had the balls to ask about the "kids" Trowa mentioned. As if it was any of his business. I coulda had a dozen kids floating around out there, and it wouldn't have made a bit of difference to the cops, so long as they could use me against Khushrenada. That bullshit about duckin' out on child support was just that—bullshit. He wanted to pry—wanted answers. And I didn't feel like explaining myself to him, _or _to his uptight partner.

I almost refused to go with them. I was ready to bolt; but Quatre was having none of that. He more or less strong-armed me into picking up my duffel bag and placing myself in the hands of two men I despised.

The hug from Trowa at the door was probably what got me through the first, and hardest, hour of that trip. He pulled me into his arms at the door, and whispered that I'd be okay.

"You're a survivor, Shini. You made it through gang wars and starvation and abuse. And you can make it through this. You know I love you like crazy—and I'll be thinking about you. I'll be here for you when you get back. So you're not alone—not _ever_."

The fucker nearly made me cry with that one. What a speech! But at least I knew that if I could stay alive and come out the other side of this, he'd be there for me. Not like Zechs was; Trowa wouldn't want to try to fill that kind of void. But he was my best friend, and a gentle and thoughtful lover, and someone who'd make sure I never felt alone.

It was kind of funny—and I thought about it on the way to the parking garage. I'd noticed a connection between Trowa and Quatre the previous day at the lawyer's office, and again just then at the hospital. I could see the potential for something to happen between those two. But I was no longer jealous about it.

I knew if something did happen, that Trowa wouldn't shut me out of it. Not that I could picture the three of us in any kind of relationship. I was a little too possessive to consider a threeway romance. But you never knew what could happen. If it came down to it, the blonde was a really pretty guy, and in spite of being a lawyer, he had a gentleness about him that was soothing and reassuring. I thought I could probably get to like him enough to share Trowa with him…or maybe share Quat with Trowa.

I'm just sayin' that I wouldn't be left out in the cold by those two. Somehow I knew that for certain. And it was comforting—especially as I climbed into a car with two men I knew despised me.


	6. Road Trip

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters eleven through thirteen of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Six: Road Trip

Yo, Diary:

Aren't road trips supposed to be fun? Well this one wasn't turning out that way at all!

First off, I knew Yuy and Chang didn't like me—and that was just fine, since I didn't particularly like them either.

Yes, there was that lust thing with Yuy. But that hardly constituted "like," let alone anything more.

He wasn't the first guy I'd lusted after, and I was pretty sure he wouldn't be the last. He was just the closest—dammit.

I tried to behave, okay? I really did. But between Chang's smoking rules and their choice in music—or lack thereof—I couldn't be blamed for a bit of rebellion, could I? I mean, they were fuckin' Nazi prick assholes!

Okay—rant over.

We weren't on the road for five minutes before I knew I could find entertainment in the Chinese cop. He was strung so tight he practically vibrated with suppressed feelings. And I was just the one to pull his strings.

"How 'bout some music?"

The debate that simple sentence precipitated made the whole fuckin' day worthwhile. Chang went off about silence and noise and how they shouldn't have to "indulge" me, while Yuy hung on to the steering wheel with a death grip and talked him down.

It was priceless. Especially the part where Yuy threatened to turn the car around.

When I finished laughing my ass off over that, everything sort of caught up with me and I crashed in the back seat. Hey, I worked nights, and it was the middle of the morning—of course I'd be tired. Not only that, but I hadn't had any decent sleep since Zechs—since _that_ night.

I don't know how long I slept, but Chang got his revenge on me by startling me awake so badly that I nearly shot through the roof of the car. Fuckin' psycho Chink bastard.

He was a sadistic sonofabitch. I don't think even Yuy would have argued about that, especially when his partner made the crack about them cutting off my braid and he tried to reassure me they wouldn't.

Well, it wasn't so much reassurance as just trying to calm me down before I blew a gasket. But I appreciated it. Didn't mean I didn't take a cheap shot about how long the cops had been trying, and failing, to take down Khushrenada. But it did gain Yuy a point or two in my estimation.

And meeting a cute, flirty waitress named Rhonda totally made that first stop worthwhile. She was sweet—a really nice kid. But what's more—it drove both Yuy and Chang nuts when I turned on the charm and flirted with her.

Had they really not believed me when I said I hated cops? Because I did.

The cops had never done me a decent turn in my whole, pathetic life. From the two apes who had their way with a ten-year-old kid, to the ones who kept me locked up when I needed to warn the Reapers about the planned attack by the Rebels—cops had done nothing but screw me over my whole life.

Not that Yuy and Chang knew that. Not that they'd care if they did.

They were only there to protect me until my usefulness ended. After that, I was sure I'd never see them again.

But meanwhile, I could have my fun, and I did. I noticed Yuy watching me out of the corner of his eye, and just to see if I could get a rise out of the "ice cop" I sucked the ketchup off a French fry.

_That_ got his attention.

Yeah, as much as he tried to pretend to ignore me, I could see the gradual flush rising in his cheeks, and the open-mouthed breathing. The fucker was getting turned-on!

And man, did that just get me hot as Hell, too! I mean, he was gorgeous—seriously. If it hadn't been for that intense "I'll kill you if you look at me the wrong way" aura he radiated, I'd've tried a more direct approach, like offering him a quick fuck.

But this—this was _fun_. This was like legalized torture. And it felt so damned good to pay him back for his attitude. Especially when he tried to escape by going to pay the check.

"What about dessert?"

Our eyes met, and he knew_ I_ knew he'd been watching me—with more than casual interest. Leftovers, indeed! Duo Maxwell was _nobody's _leftovers—and I intended to prove it to the hot cop, even if I had to pull out all the stops to seduce his ass.

He was almost as easy to bait as his partner, and asking if he was gonna hold my dick for me to take a piss got him so perturbed he gave me a good, solid shove towards the bathroom. I always did like forceful men—though I'll admit, his being a cop was a serious deal-breaker.

Didn't mean I couldn't screw with his head, though. Cops were all about fuck 'em and leave 'em, right? So—maybe I'd show him how it's really done.

I got my first chance awhile later. I'd slept a bit during the ride, though not as much as I might've led Yuy and Chang to believe.

Hey, they wanted to talk about me behind my back, they hadda expect some eavesdropping, right? I overheard just enough to know I had them confused—wondering how much of my attitude was real and how much was a show just for them.

I musta been slipping if they were even catching on to the fact that a lot of it was for show. Well, maybe not for show—but for them. They were, after all, cops, and as I've said before—well, y'know, I _hate _cops.

I think maybe they tried to get on my nerves, too—like when Yuy kept following me to the bathroom—as if I'd run off if he didn't. Or maybe he thought one of Khushrenada's goons might be hiding in a urinal. Who knew?

Either way, their lack of trust bugged the hell out of me. Not that I'd given them reason to completely trust me—but I'd also done nothing to lose their trust, either. Assholes.

It really fuckin' got to me when Yuy decided I was _using_. Fuck it anyway! Just because I was antsy at being stuck in a car for hours on end when I was used to an active life and active job—he thought I was _on _something? I'll have you know, when I'm on _anything _I'm actually less jumpy.

Yeah, I suppose if I was hurtin' for a fix, maybe I'd've been restless. But honestly, before I got into a car with two cops, I'd have made sure they were going to allow me my drugs, if I was that hard up.

I knew this guy once, who got immunity for testifying against some big-shot dealer—and part of his deal was they hadda put him through rehab. Essentially, they had to provide his dope until he was off it for good.

Anyhow, that's not really important. What was important was that they could've treated me with just a smidgeon of fucking respect. I mean, shit—when Zechs was alive and we went out anywhere, we were like royalty! Everyone bowed to his wishes—well, everyone except me, and I more than made up for that in bed. I bowed to all the wishes that really counted.

And Zechs treated me great in return. He showed me respect, and love, and affection. He told me how funny and smart and talented I was—and I missed him more with every minute I had to spend dealing with Chang's cheap shots and Yuy's scorn.

I was on a ragged edge, and it only took one little nudge from Chang to push me over.

"Well your crime lord boyfriend is _dead _now."

Did he have to sound so fuckin' _thrilled_ about that? I mean, Jesus Christ—I loved Zechs. And it was like a slap in the face to hear the _triumph _in Chang's voice—to relive, yet one more time, the sick drop of my stomach at the sound of the gunshot and the sight—.

Fucking hell! I would _not _let myself cry in front of a couple of goddamned cops!

"It's right back to the gutter you crawled out of."

Well, no time like the present. I was off and running before the asshole finished his little outburst.


	7. Lows and Highs

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters thirteen through fourteen of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Seven: Lows and Highs

I was almost to the highway when Yuy caught me—and in retrospect, I'm sorry I didn't swing at him once I realized who he was. The fucker cuffed me! He fuckin' _handcuffed _me.

He deserved the kick to the knee and more, but when he wrenched my arms up behind me, it kinda took the fight right out of me. Nothin' like the risk of a broken arm to make ya back off, is there?

And there we were, sitting in that car, while I fumed about his asshole partner throwing Zechs' death in my face, and Yuy was about as sympathetic as a brick, threatening to haul me back to Khushrenada personally if I didn't behave.

"Go ahead. It'd save us all a lot of trouble." And I believed it would. I had a feeling sooner or later, Khushrenada would succeed in silencing me, no matter what the cops did.

"Don't tempt me."

As soon as the words left his mouth, I pictured a whole slew of ways to tempt a man—even one made of ice. And, well—I always_ had_ loved a challenge.

"You'd like it if I did."

And from there, I just ran with it.

"Fuck you clear into next week—."

"M-maxwell—."

His voice broke and I went for the kill. "You ever kissed a guy…detective?"

Pure panic flashed across his face, and I felt my own pulse speed up in response. He couldn't answer me—he knew I could tell he wanted to kiss me—wanted to touch.

"Why don't you let me show you just how good I could make you feel? Kiss you, an' lick you…suck you, an' fuck you…"

I'd once made Zechs totally lose it by saying exactly those words. He wasn't the only one who'd learned how to use his voice and his words to evoke a physical response.

The mutual heat being generated between me an' Yuy already had the windows fogging up—and given a few more minutes, I bet I could've made him come in his pants. But then, his partner got back in time to save him a world of embarrassment.

When Chang interrupted, I kind of felt like someone threw cold water on my fire. Except it was still smoldering underneath.

Did I say _Yuy_ wanted? Well—so did I. I wanted _him_. And I wasn't afraid to admit it. The guy was fuckin' hot. And it was pretty obvious he swung my way, whether he wanted to face the fact or not.

It was only a matter of time until I got him alone, without the watchful eyes of Chang following our every move. And when I did—I really wanted to demonstrate everything I'd suggested.

Hey—it was something to do. Considering I could be holed up with two anal-retentive cops for weeks or even months, I really needed a diversion. And seriously, I think Yuy needed to get laid. Badly.

Or maybe very, very well. Yeah. That was the ticket! He needed release in a really big way—something to break through the hard shell and give him an outlet for all those bottled up passions that danced just under the surface of those midnight blue eyes.

Was I a fuckin' poet, or what? Jeeze, I think Zechs rubbed off on me more than I realized.

Now _he _was a poet. The man could make words sound like music—the way they dropped off his lips. And he was always throwing in words like "passion" and "essence" and "ebullient." I wasn't even sure what that last one meant, when he used it to describe me. My response had been to ask if it had something to do with bullshit.

He'd laughed so hard he nearly keeled over. The jackass. And then he explained it to me. Him and his freakin' vocabulary lessons.

And yet—it was fun, learning new things—like the cooking. Zechs was really good for me in a lot of ways, and he really helped me improve myself. Of course, there was a lot of room for improvement.

And no, he wasn't condescending about it, or I'd've socked him one, right in the face. Nobody talked down to me and got away with it. But Zechs was such a smooth-talker that he could show me a gap in my education so big you could drive a tractor trailer through, and yet not ridicule me for it. He—_God_, I fuckin' missed him!

* * *

Anyhow—to get back to the mess I was in since losing him—once I got Yuy to let me out of those damned cuffs, I had to listen to a totally condescending lecture from both of my jailors, about hiding the braid and not going anywhere alone, and not talking to strangers.

I hadda bite my tongue to keep from tellin' 'em they should be teaching kindergarten instead of solving crimes. Fucking mother hens, both of 'em.

It became pretty clear, though, that the "no talking to strangers" rule was gonna be pointless, as we drove further and further from civilization.

And when they told me we were going to be hiding out in some remote cabin in the woods, I have to admit, I got a little nervous. I was a city boy, remember?

"Are you saying there _are _bears?"

Fuck Chang and his warped sense of humor—the bastard started in about wolves and shit.

Ya wonder why I had to light up a joint to calm myself down? Well, duh!

Of course, my first toke was destined to be my last (heh, Zechs would've loved hearin' me use the word "destined"). Chang threw my whole fuckin' stash out on the side of the road.

But that's okay—because in compensation, I got hold of his first name. Woofy. And I quickly learned that he hated hearing it mispronounced—so tormenting him with its misuse became my new favorite pastime on the road trip from Hell. Heh, heh.

Payback's a bitch, Chang-baby!

We got into a whole discussion of homophobes after that, and I found out Quatre was eyeballin' my ass that night at the precinct—a fact I was _so _gonna find a way to use against him. I also figured out that Chang didn't know his partner was gay, and that Yuy wanted to keep it that way—something else to log away for future use.

And then I found out my dream-cop's first name.

_Heero._

Fuck. My _hero_, Heero. Ya wanna talk about destiny? Fate? Kismet? All of the above?

You tell me. Did it not seem perfect that my protector, my white knight, and my guardian had a name like Heero?

Of course, he pointed out how suitable _my _name was as well. Duo. Yeah, it was very, very appropriate. I knew that much about myself—that I ran from one extreme to another—that I had a tendency to be two sides of a coin. I just hadn't expected a cop to pick up on it so quickly.

Made me think maybe I'd underestimated Yuy just a bit. He was more perceptive than I'd given him credit for. And if I wanted to keep that little bit of upper hand I'd gained with my blatant sexual offer that threw him so far off balance, I'd have to watch my step.

I pretended to sleep until our next rest stop, and then chided Chang for being reluctant to follow me to the men's room. I mean, shit—I wasn't _that _bad, was I?

"Jesus, Wuffers, I don't bite—much."

Okay, maybe I _was _that bad. I got a blush from Yuy, anyway, and a warning to behave myself. Sure I _could._ I just chose not to, most of the time.

But then, when I got back to the car and settled in, resigned to a few more hours of boredom, my fuckin' white knight had to go and get all gallant on me. He gave me a portable cd player—complete with headset. I could listen to whatever I wanted, and shut out the irritating cop-talk and road noise, without having to fight Chang tooth and nail for each musical selection I made.

Why'd he go and do something thoughtful like that, anyway?

He made some crack about my music, and how it'd give Chang and him a break from it—but I saw his expression when I said "thanks." He looked pleased. Not just relieved at having found a solution—but genuinely happy about it.

Could he be developing a little soft spot for me, I wondered? Falling for the ol' Maxwell charm?

Or maybe I was just delusional. That was a lot more likely. Apparently my music was so very repugnant to him that finding a way to avoid being subjected to it absolutely made his goddamned day.

Part of me wanted to think that little glimmer in those unforgettable eyes was because he'd enjoyed doing something nice for me—but then the part that had been knocked on its ass by cops too many times to count, spoke up and reminded me of what he was, and that anything he did was motivated by his mission—not by any dawning affection for me.

Fuckin' cop.


	8. A New Day

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter fifteen of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Eight: A New Day

I woke up to a paling sky, and realized that the strange pink glow on the horizon was the pending sunrise.

I'd never seen the sun come up over anything besides skyscrapers. Even in Zechs' lavish penthouse, the sun had still had to climb above a concrete jungle to light up the landscape.

But Chang was in full-on "prick" mode that morning, and told me there was just no need to stop to see it. He said I could look out the window.

I tried everything—warning him that if my bladder ruptured and I died a horrible death, he'd be out one witness. But he wasn't gonna budge.

Drama queen, indeed! If I was a drama queen, he was the asshole with the biggest stick in the world up his ass—and I told him so.

"Pull over, Chang," said a cool, uncompromising voice.

Goddamn! Heero to the rescue again!

I'd have kissed him for that, if he wouldn't have knocked my lights out. Instead I bounded out of the car and ran to a little knoll to watch the sun clear the mountaintops.

It was—awesome. Kind of a religious experience, if you wanna look at it that way. There was a definite feeling of being part of some great cosmic picture when I stood there and let the first rays wash my face with their light.

I wished Zechs could've seen it with me.

Okay—I knew he'd seen sunrises like that before, even if I hadn't. He'd told me about vacations when he was a kid being raised by a father who came from some kind of royalty or something. They'd had a country estate in the hills of some far-off land, and he told me all about the beautiful views and the incredible sunrises and sunsets.

But this was the first one I really got to see in person. And it was way more spectacular than Zechs had described. Just the way the valley lit up and the mist started to rise and dissipate—it was like a dreamscape. It almost didn't look real. At least not to a street kid like me.

Yuy had no idea how grateful I was for that one moment.

But the thanks I said to him and his asshole partner was truly heartfelt. I enjoyed that sunrise more than they'd ever know—logging it away among the treasured moments in my memory.

Yeah, I was a loud-mouthed, attitudinal punk—but that didn't mean I couldn't appreciate beauty when I saw it.

Speaking of beauty—I'd have liked to see Yuy's eyes in that sunrise—preferably after a night of fucking his brains out. He had some very lovely eyes, that damned cop. Eyes I hadn't shaken from my memory after three long years.

I guess I was still hoping that at some point while the three of us were holed up in hiding, I might have a chance at a closer look. It'd be nice to see how those eyes looked when they weren't filled with contempt or coldness.

And what the fuck was I doing daydreaming about shit like that anyway?

I shook myself out of those wasted daydreams when we finally pulled into a restaurant for breakfast.

And then—hot damn if we didn't stumble across the coolest animals I think I'd ever seen! Llamas. At least that's what my anal escorts said they were.

"Careful, Maxwell. They _spit_."

"Why'd you warn him, Chang? It would've been hilarious."

Great—Yuy had a sense of humor after all—a sadistic one.

"If you piss 'em off, they spit."

"Kinda like me," I pointed out, giving Yuy a knowing smirk.

Yeah, that wiped the smile right off his face. One point for Maxwell!

Of course, I stopped keeping score a minute later, when a freckle-faced kid made me look like the biggest chicken on the planet. She strolled right up to the llamas like she was totally sure of herself, while I nervously followed, afraid to make a wrong move.

And she chided and teased me into hand-feeding them—which turned out to be a cool thing after all. It also made me feel braver than the two detectives who hung back and watched from a safe distance.

At least, it was safe until the girl went for more grain, and Chang decided I'd dawdled long enough—and tried dragging me away from my hungry new friends.

Yeah—my next entry should read "Dear Diary—Today I laughed so hard I fuckin' died!"

It was kind of a blur—the llamas getting agitated, and the girl yelling for us to duck—but I hit the dirt and then looked up just in time to see a big ol' wad of spit and green stomach goop nail Wuffers right in the side of the head.

_Oh God!_

I really thought I was gonna die for a few minutes there. I mean I honestly laughed so hard, I couldn't suck any air in. Seriously! I mean, _God_! It was so funny I couldn't breathe.

I ended up curled on my side, clutching my stomach and trying to draw a much-needed gulp of air in between guffaws. And in case you've never been there—when every muscle in your body is knotted up around the most gut-busting laughter you've ever known—you really _can't _breathe in.

Of course, I obviously did eventually manage to gasp in some air, or I wouldn't have been able to write this shit down. But fuck! It was touch an' go for awhile.

I would have given everything I owned, including my sleek black motorcycle, for a picture of Wufei at that moment.

Gladly.

But it'll just have to linger in my mind's eye as something that totally eclipsed the image of a dazzling sunrise, and very nearly a pair of intense blue eyes.

Even my "made ya look" quip didn't quite measure up to the sheer perfection of the moment the glob of spit hit Chang's head. It made my top ten list of memories, right behind having sex on a horse statue in a public park.

Okay. Maybe before it. But still behind Yuy's eyes, dammit!

So sue me. I got a thing for blue eyes. Zechs' had been like ice—a light, frosty crystalline blue that could either warn of impending doom, or convey a world of passion.

Yuy's—well, they were such a deep blue they looked like velvet. And even when they were filled with scorn, there was a smoldering in their depths that spoke of hidden desires and dreams. I guess "dreamy" was a good word for describing eyes like those, even if it sounds totally girly to say it.

"Oh he's got such _dreamy _eyes," just sounds like a chick comment. Really. So I won't even say it—but I will admit, it crossed my mind.

Ah well.

Between Wufei's llama encounter, and the taste of the homemade bread they served at the tiny restaurant, the morning took a definite upswing. I could almost have enjoyed the delicious meal, if I hadn't had to share it with cops.

After breakfast, we got back on the road, with some freshly baked bread and doughnuts I talked the guys into buying—for sustenance. And by noontime, we reached the log cabin—aka Stalag Yuy and Chang.

Yes, they were determined to run the place like a fuckin' prison camp, a fact which became very clear to me the moment I wiped the sleep from my eyes and they lit on the gleaming Harley-Davidson motorcycle in the spare parking place of the oversized garage.

It damned near gave me a hard-on, it was that gorgeous, and on the way inside, I paused to drool over the shining chrome on the sexy vintage bike.

"Don't even think about it, Maxwell," Chang hissed in my ear. "You will march your ass inside and not leave this place until it's time for you to testify."

"Who died and made you God?" I challenged.

"Zechs Merquise," he sneered. "His death, and your witnessing of it has put Yuy and me in the unenviable position of playing God over you until we hand you over to the District Attorney."

_Way to go, asshole—mention my dead lover again._

I strode quickly away from him, ending up right behind Yuy as he entered the lavish kitchen in Quatre's "rustic getaway."

Rustic my ass. It was about as rustic as Buckingham Palace.

"Ve-rry nice. I could get comfy here."

Yeah—that notion was quickly dispelled as Chang jumped my shit _again_—spouting out bullshit about us being guests and behaving ourselves and not messing anything up. Fucking killjoy.

I cheered myself up by discovering that we had cable, and snagging the remote before either of my dickhead babysitters got to it.

And then I cheered myself up more by going out and ogling that Harley again. It was a lean, sexy machine—and I knew how good I'd look on it, and how good it'd feel between my legs.

Can you say "sexual innuendo?"

I stroked the custom-painted gas tank lovingly. "Aw, baby—you and I are just made for each other, aren't we?"

If a hot vintage bike was all I could have between my legs in the foreseeable future, well, I'd take what I could get. And if Yuy and Chang didn't back the fuck off and give me room to breathe, they were gonna find out that Duo Maxwell wasn't as easy to cage as they thought.


	9. Confined Spaces

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter sixteen of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Nine: Confined Spaces

Okay, it was pretty obvious from the get-go that our time in the log cabin would be pure Hell. Between Chang and Yuy laying down the law—their law—and the restrictions they put on me, I felt like I was in jail.

Not like it was the first time I'd been in jail—but this was so much worse.

I tried. Honestly.

Heck, I offered to let my two hot jailors share a room with me. Heh, heh. Chang ignored me, but Yuy looked for a second there like he was considering the possibilities.

_In my dreams_. (Insert a wistful sigh here.) As I'd said, the guy was just drool-worthy. So if I lusted after him, who could blame me?

While Chang inventoried our supplies an' stuff—I followed Yuy back to the car—looking for a diversion. Any kind of diversion.

"Is there _anything_ to do around here? Like—anywhere to go—at all?"

I should've known better, I guess.

"Maybe it's time we discussed those 'rules' I mentioned before."

_Well, shit._

No smoking in the bedroom. No going outside, at all. No phone calls. No going anywhere without letting the nazi prick cops know exactly where I was.

"You seriously expect someone to find us, don't you?" I asked in disbelief, wondering how on Earth anyone could ever think to look for me in the middle of a wilderness.

"You yourself pointed out the precinct has leaks," Yuy reminded me.

And then Chang mentioned some chick at the precinct—their Captain's secretary. Relena.

"You _know _how she feels about you," he pointed out to Heero.

"Got a girlfriend, Yuy?" I asked, my hopes plummeting as I wondered if I'd misread him completely. Hadn't he seemed turned on by some of my antics? I'd thought for sure he was gay—the way he sidestepped the issue around Chang, and his reaction to my flirting.

Fuck it anyway.

"In spades, Maxwell. She's Chief Darlian's daughter. And she'd do damn near anything for Yuy."

Whoa. There was that funny twist in my gut again. Jealousy?

Was I actually jealous of Yuy's girlfriend? And why? For Christ's sake he was just a cop—a mean, mission-oriented, dictatorial ass.

So why did the thought of some pretty girl waiting back at the police station for him bother me so much?

I got in some parting shots, called Yuy _Master_, just to piss him off, and then went to sit by the fire and have a smoke.

And when the detectives went outside to set up some kind of high-tech security they'd brought along, I flipped through channels until I found a music video station, and watched performers I thought Trowa and I could've outdone in a heartbeat.

Yeah, we'd been quite the team. Our two-man show was all the rage at The Jungle, and honestly, I'd liked the work. Stripping wasn't a bad occupation—sliding clothing off piece by piece as guys cheered and drooled and threw money at me.

I stretched out on the couch, reminiscing about how nice a gleam of appreciation looked in a man's eyes. It'd been too long since I'd seen one. I guess the last time was when Zechs took me to bed the night he died, and told me how grateful he was that I'd given him another chance—how much he loved me—and that he'd do anything for me. Anything at all.

I wished that hadn't been a lie—because all he'd have had to do was stay alive and with me.

* * *

When I woke up later, there was a blanket thrown over me, which kind of gave me an odd feeling. First off, I usually slept lightly, and wondered who could have gotten that close without waking me.

Secondly, it was a kind gesture—not the type of thing either of my companions would indulge in. Though, if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it had been Yuy. He, at least, had a spark of compassion, much as he tried to hide it.

I padded into the kitchen in time to hear "I'll just send him to his room if he gets troublesome."

"Y'know—," I pointed out. "You two might not wanna keep talking about me like I'm not here, when I'm all of ten feet away."

Chang didn't miss a beat. "Wishful thinking."

"Right back atcha, Chang," I sneered.

I took a seat at the table, stretching my legs so my feet touched Yuy's ankles, and smirking in satisfaction as he flinched. "Oops—sorry." He knew damned well I wasn't.

We talked a bit about contacting Quatre after that. I'd left a signed power of attorney with him, and instructions on what to do with my stuff if I didn't make it out of this mess. I just wanted to make sure he had it all straight. Pretty much anything I had of value was supposed to be sold to raise money for the orphanage. And if there was any doubt about anything, I'd designated Trowa to make judgment calls.

The only thing I was adamant about was being cremated if I died. Not that I was dwelling on my mortality or anything, with Treize Khushrenada sending people to blow up cars with me in 'em.

Okay, maybe I was.

It just felt right to me that I should end up like the rest of the Reapers—when the time came. They'd all been burned to ash in that warehouse fire, and by rights, I should've been there with 'em. If I hadn't gone off alone to brood about Solo, and how pissed I was that even after Meilan's death he stayed away from me, I wouldn't have ended up at the store in time to see those scrawny little street kids about to break a window with a brick. And I wouldn't have offered to help them do it smarter.

They were the ones who told me what they'd heard on the street—that the Rebels were planning a pre-dawn attack on the Reapers—that they claimed they knew our hideout and how to set a trap.

And if two fucking cops hadn't happened along and caught me in the grocery store, swiping canned goods and bread for a handful of starving kids—.

Well, fuck. Let's just not go there.

Anyhow, I ended up in a debate about honor with Chang, which was just plain stupid on my part. And in disgust, I took myself back to the living room to finish my meal in a less oppressive atmosphere than the one that clung to those two detectives.

Stuck-up pussies.

When I took my dishes back out to the kitchen, I noticed Yuy had disappeared. I'd have asked Chang about that, but I was kinda trying the silent treatment on him for a change. Plus, I could pretty much guess for myself that he'd gone to get some sleep, since obviously the two of them were going to watch me in shifts.

I went back to my hundred cable channels and watched some television—but found myself superimposing an image of a blue-eyed cop over the face of the guy in some love story I happened upon.

Fuck. He really did have pretty eyes.

I'd seen him sleeping in the car, and it had been kind of sweet the way his face relaxed when he slept. He'd looked kind of tousled and innocent, his face obscured by the thick, unruly hair—and it had been all I could do to keep from reaching out to brush it back. I wondered how soft it was—or if it was as coarse and wiry as his personality.

But then, he'd slipped up once or twice and showed me that there was more to him than the ice-cop image he projected. He bought me a cd player…and he let me watch a sunrise…and he threw a comforter over me when I was sleeping on the couch.

What the hell was I supposed to make of that?

I ran a hand back through my bangs, and realized they were kind of sticky and unkempt, which reminded me I hadn't had a shower since before the meeting at Quatre's office and the fateful car bomb.

Well shit. I'd checked out the bathroom before, and it was a thing of beauty—all tile and marble and plush towels. Time for a bit of indulgence.

I pushed up off the couch and sauntered out to the kitchen—at which point Chang looked up from making coffee and cleared his throat. "Going somewhere?"

Oh—that's right. I had to "check in" with my wardens before taking a shit, didn't I?

I gave him a perfectly lascivious smile. "Yeah, hot stuff. I'm goin' to take a shower. After ogling two hot asses all day, I really need some quality time to myself, if you catch my drift."

He curled a lip in distaste. "I wish I didn't."

I very deliberately peeled my shirt off and threw it at him. "If you want to come watch me whack myself off in the shower, now's your chance."

"Maxwell—!"

I turned on my heel and strutted out of the kitchen, using my "stage walk." Y'know—the one that had guys squirmin' in their seats back at The Jungle as they imagined my long, lean legs wrapped around their waists.

I sort of wished it had been Yuy in the kitchen—watching my ass as I walked away—those blue eyes just burning with need—.

Fuck it—at this rate, I might really have to jerk myself off after all.


	10. Propositions

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters sixteen and seventeen of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Ten: Propositions

That shower was heavenly. I hadn't realized how grubby I'd felt—but after a day in the hospital and two more in a car—I really needed a nice hot shower.

I needed even more than that; someone to show me a little affection, someone to actually care about me, someone who'd let me talk about Zechs and how much I was gonna miss him. But those things were far, far away—along with a pair of reassuring green eyes and a soft, intimate smile I missed almost as much as I missed Zechs.

Yeah, Trowa had been my support so many times. He was comfort and solace and friendship incarnate. I should've made them let him come with me—but then, he had a life—one that wasn't up for grabs like mine was. It wouldn't have been fair to drag him into this any more than I already had.

But I missed him. I missed the way he'd taken care of me the night of the murder. Why couldn't my two babysitters muster up a little concern like that, hm? Did they have to treat me like I was trash?

Yeah, I'd shacked up with a crime lord. I knew what Zechs did—what he was. But there was more to him than that; and they didn't understand the human side of Zechs Merquise. They didn't want to.

And they wanted to paint me just as bad. I mean, sure, I was no saint. But I also wasn't a high profile syndicate leader. I was just the guy who'd loved one.

Okay—enough self-pity—right?

I finished my shower, dried off, and pulled on the leather pants I'd brought as a change of clothes.

Um, I suppose I could try to say I wasn't wearing them to attract attention. But that'd be a lie. I knew exactly how good my ass looked in those snug slacks, and I wanted to torment my captors a little more.

Not that it would faze Chang—though he was such a prude he was easy to embarrass. No, I had it more in mind to faze Yuy—to maybe see if he was really hetero after all. Like I'd said, I was willing to pull out all the stops to seduce him. And the first step would be ascertaining his sexual orientation. At the very least, he might be bi, right? And in that case, his girlfriend could just kiss off, once I got my hands on him.

When I strolled back out to the kitchen, the Gods were smiling on me, and Yuy was at the table scowling over his precious laptop computer.

But even from the corner of my eye, I saw him look up and lick his lips.

"See something you like, _Heero_?"

He was totally frozen, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes—his dark, lust-filled eyes—focused on my too-tight pants. Fuck heterosexual! The man was absolutely gay—and hot for me!

_Score!_

Goddamn I wanted him. Right then and there.

I set down the bottle of water I'd grabbed and walked slowly towards him, taking my time, and very deliberately swiveling his chair to face me. And then I settled my weight on his lap, my legs spread on either side of him—a wide-open invitation if ever there was one.

I _so _needed to get laid.

"Tell me what you _want_," I breathed, leaning in until our lips were brushing, every nerve in my body on fire with wanting him. "Y'want _me_?"

_Please say "yes!"_

"No!"

His hand settled in the middle of my chest, its heat just about burning a hole through me—and he shoved hard enough to slide me off his lap and into an unceremonious heap on the floor.

_Fuck and double-fuck! So goddamned close!_

"What the _fuck _are you trying to do, Maxwell?"

"That about sums it up," I told him frankly, trying to soothe my ruffled pride by adopting a careless attitude. "Thought it'd help pass the time, y'know—if we fucked."

"I'm not—. Not interested!"

_Hm—that's a double negative, Yuy._

I got up and brushed myself off, trying to gather my dignity as well as rein in my libido. "When your brain catches up to your dick, Yuy, and you admit what you want, you know where to find me."

I made my exit, my skin still tingling from that one touch of his hand. I seriously wanted that man. I wanted to push and prod and tease until he couldn't deny his urges any more, and all that pent up passion came pouring out.

God, I bet he'd be fuckin' incredible in bed!

He was all about discipline and self-containment—and I wanted to break down every ounce of self-control he had.

I wasn't sure when it got to be about more than teasing him. It had started out as a diversion—flirting with the stern, heterosexual cop.

But somewhere along the line, I'd realized he wasn't heterosexual—he was in denial. And that made him suddenly accessible.

And I wanted access.

It _would _help pass the time—like I'd said.

And maybe it would ease some of the loneliness and tension that was already dredging up new nightmares to take the place of my old ones. I honestly wasn't sure I could sleep, after being so close to feeling that hard-muscled body on top of me.

I guess I needed to let loose just as much as the uptight cop did. I needed to get lost in sensory overload—to _feel_ instead of think.

But until and unless Yuy stopped fighting me, I wasn't going to find that kind of solace here.

I swear, my bedroom felt as cold as a tomb, in spite of the thick comforter on the bed and the state-of-the-art heating system. And I knew damned well that if I slept, it wouldn't be for long, and it wouldn't be peaceful.

So I just pulled out my sketch pad and started drawing. Maybe I could capture an image of a sunrise before the memory faded. And at the very least, I'd ward off sleep and the nightmares it would bring.

* * *

By morning, I'd switched to listening to music and reading a book, still trying to keep myself awake and amused. I sure as hell wasn't going to mess with Yuy again until he'd cooled off.

Yeah, I guess I pissed him off a bit.

But if that's what it took to push him into taking action—well, I was willing to piss him off a whole lot more.

When he and Chang came busting into the room, though, I decided they'd crossed a very irritating line. I mean, it's one thing to have a set of rules in place—and another to harp on them. My one little cigarette was not going to make the house uninhabitable, for crissakes!

But sure enough, after breakfast when Yuy invited me to walk around the yard with him, I knew something was up. And when I saw Chang puttering around the house with some tools in hand, I had a pretty big clue as to what it was.

I played dumb for Yuy's benefit—and tested the waters a bit more—just to keep myself entertained.

"Somehow, this wasn't how I pictured you an' me screwing."

He rolled his eyes, looking more amused than angry, so I decided to press my luck.

Hell—_press_ it? I ran over it with a steam roller.

"I take it Wuffers doesn't know you're gay."

"I'm not!"

"Oh, right. That bulge in your pants last night was what—my imagination?"

"You must've been dreaming."

"Wet dreaming." And wasn't _that_ the God's honest truth?

"Goddamnit, Maxwell! I'm not interested! I don't know how many times or ways I have to say that! Now get the fuck out of my way so I can find what I dropped!"

What a lying sack of shit he was! Not interested? His body had already betrayed the fact that he was. But when he shoved me aside, I'd had enough sniping for the moment, and stormed off into the house to try to occupy myself with television again. Maybe I could catch another nap on the couch, since I still wasn't used to sleeping nights.

And if I was really lucky, maybe I wouldn't dream.


	11. Critical Pressure

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter seventeen of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Eleven: Critical Pressure

When I woke up on the couch, it was sometime in the afternoon, and the television was still on with the sound muted.

I could hear murmured voices from another room, but I didn't bother to try to pick up on what they were saying. They were probably just planning more ways to fuck with my head anyways.

Instead I stretched and wriggled around until I was sitting up, picking up the remote and flicking through channels. I almost stopped on the station that shows how to make things, which is pretty entertaining, most of the time.

But I wanted to check out all the options before I narrowed it down, though if I'd known what I'd stumble across I'd never have kept going.

When I saw Zechs' face displayed across the screen, my stomach gave a sudden lurch, and I turned up the volume until I could hear what was being said. Then I let the remote slide from my limp fingers when they switched to footage of a funeral procession.

//_ In today's top story, Zechs Merquise was laid to rest at Peacemillion Cemetery in a private ceremony./_

Fucking holy Hell!

I felt like I'd been sucker punched, the breath leaving my lungs all at once in a painful rush. Zechs. They were fuckin' burying him, and I couldn't even be there to say goodbye.

I hastily blinked back tears and swallowed hard to keep from groaning out loud at the intense stab of pain in my chest. Each time they flashed an image of him on the screen, it just tore me to shreds.

For the first time since his death, I wished I'd tried to stop Khushrenada and gotten killed along with him. Why was I still breathing anyway, when the man I'd loved was gone forever?

I caught a movement in my peripheral vision, and knew that Yuy had come into the room. How I knew it was him instead of Chang, I can't honestly say—but I did. Maybe it was the fact that there was no malicious laughter at the sight of my crime lord lover being laid to rest.

When the newscast mentioned the cops trying to link Merquise and Khushrenada to organized crime, I gave a skeptical snort.

"What do you know about the Oz syndicate?"

I spared Yuy a scathing glance. _Always the fuckin' detective, eh?_

"You looking for more out of me than a murder charge against Khushrenada? Sorry, detective, but all I know about the money laundering is hearsay. Pillow talk, y'know."

Oh fuck, _pillow talk_.

Zechs had been a master at that—lying with me after sex and toying with my hair, talking about how he'd quit the syndicate and take me away with him. Like I said before, the man was a poet. He'd go on for hours about the taste of my skin, and the heat of my body—the silky brush of my hair across his face and chest when I was sitting astride him—.

God, how I remembered his touch—his kiss—everything.

"He had lovely hair."

Yanked abruptly from my heartache, I swiveled my head to look at Yuy incredulously. Had he just said that? Out loud?

He looked embarrassed. "Well, hell…you've got to admit it's eye-catching."

"Soft, too," I assured him dreamily. "It was like silk—spun silk."

Okay—this had to end. I had to stop slipping into daydreaming about Zechs while I was dealing with cops. And I had to pull myself back together and out of the doldrums, before I really _did _think of joining my lover in the afterlife.

"So—does the illustrious Detective Yuy have a little hair fetish?"

"I do _not_."

_Bullshit._ "I think you do."

I threw my braid over my shoulder and watched his eyes follow it. Oh yeah! He had it bad. He wanted to undo the braid and run his fingers through it. He wanted to touch it and feel it—.

"You _know _you wanna touch it. C'mon and touch it, Yuy. Touch _me_…"

I'd climbed over the back of the couch and was stalking towards him, sure that he'd finally break down and take what I was offering, when he stumbled backwards—right into Chang's chest.

Why the _fuck_ did that goddamned Chink bastard have to keep screwing up my timing?

"Aw, Wuffers—you ruined my fun."

_No shit._

"I am not 'Wuffers.' It's Detective Chang, to you—or just detective, if you wish. But _never _'Wuffers.'"

"Bite me, Chang."

I was halfway down the hall when I paused to listen in and see what my two jailors would be up to next. Bad enough they were treating me like a prisoner—but to have to put up with Chang's malice—!

But all they talked about was groceries, and I remembered I was down to my last pack of cigarettes. If this ordeal went on as long as it was becoming evident it would, I'd need more—lots more.

I dashed back to make sure they got it on the list. "Cigarettes! Could you get me a carton of menthols, 'Fei?"

In retrospect, I should've known better. I should've known Chang would fuckin' lord it over me that he had the car, and the keys, and complete control of the shopping list.

I tried to play his game. I said "please." I called him "Detective Chang."

But that wasn't good enough, and he just had to screw with me some more—until I totally lost it. I mean, fuck. I'd just watched Zechs' funeral. I was emotionally raw, sexually frustrated, and being treated like shit. I couldn't take any more.

"Y'know what, Chang? You can go fuck yourself. I'll get my own fuckin' cigarettes and you and your partner can just drop dead."

I stormed off down the hallway and into my room, slamming the door for good measure. And then I began planning my escape.

The window wouldn't open, of course. Chang had seen to that. But there were other ways out of that hellhole, and I was determined to find one.

_Screw with Maxwell? I think not!_

I was gonna show them that my cooperation was just that—cooperation. I didn't have to stay put with them. And I didn't have to abide by their rules. I'd been doing it out of habit, so far—just going with the flow.

But that hadn't been good enough. And dealing with two uncompromising assholes was more than I could stand right then. I needed an outlet for my frustrations. I needed some activity. And I needed it far away from Detectives Yuy and Chang.

Shinigami wanted to go out and play, and he was fuckin' well gonna do it!


	12. The Great Escape

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters seventeen and eighteen of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Twelve: The Great Escape

I was going over scenarios in my mind of how I could slip past Yuy and escape after Chang left to get the groceries. But Fate provided an even better plan, when I went to use the john and my eyes lit on that tiny little window up high on the wall.

It had apparently escaped Chang's notice.

But not mine.

When I scurried back to my room, listening to the murmur of voices down the hall, I was in a black, black mood, the likes of which I hadn't known since meeting Trowa. He'd always seemed to know how to pull me out of that pit.

But he wasn't there to do it this time. No one was…and I missed Zechs so much right then that I'd have killed to be with him.

Nothing mattered except escaping—finding somewhere that the noise and activity would drown out the ghosts in my head for a few hours. It was almost like the days when I'd been using drugs—the need to not think overriding my common sense.

So I grabbed a towel, rolling up my favorite leather pants, a clubbing shirt, and a few necessities in it; and as soon as I heard the garage door open, signaling Chang's departure, I headed for the kitchen to report to Warden Yuy that I was going to take a shower.

As I walked down the hall, I heard him blurt out "Jesus!"

"No," I commented, leaning in the doorway. "But I've been called 'Angel' a time or two."

_By Zechs…oh God…only by Zechs._

I felt a sharp pang where my heart was located.

"What do you want, Maxwell?"

"A nice piece of ass for starters," I retorted, stung by his sharp tone. _Yours would do nicely, _I wanted to add, looking hungrily at his intense blue eyes and chiseled features. God, the guy had a body that wouldn't quit! It made me want him so much that the scorn in his eyes didn't matter any more.

I wondered yet again why he wouldn't act on his feelings, as I flipped him off, and then turned on a heel and stalked down the hall to the shower. I knew he was attracted—so it was for damned sure he wasn't straight. He was at least bi—like Solo.

Well, thinking of Solo did nothing to improve my mood. And as I locked the bathroom door and turned on the water, I forced the blue-eyed cop I was lusting after out of my mind and focused on my escape.

It was pretty simple, really, singing loudly enough to cover the noise as I changed into the clubbing clothes and then shoved a chair under the window and climbed up to slide it open.

Shinnying out that high, tiny window was the real trick, as it was never meant to fit a full-grown man. But I was slim and lithe enough to make it, despite taking an unceremonious tumble onto the grass outside.

I picked myself up, brushed the grass from my clothes, and straightened the wrist cuffs and collar I'd accessorized with. Then I jogged around the back of the house, dodging the zones where I knew Yuy's cameras and sensors would pick up my motion.

_Sucker._

I might've felt a split-second of guilt over using the information I'd gathered when he was being so nice to me—except I knew it had just been a distraction. He hadn't wanted me to notice Chang screwing the windows shut from the outside.

It was the fact that he thought I was stupid that really stung. Did he not think I'd pick up on their tag-team? Fuck—he _deserved _to shit bricks when he found me gone.

Maybe I'd bring him back a souvenir—a nice book of matches from a nightclub—or maybe a bottle of scotch.

I chuckled as I picked the lock on the side door of the garage. Yeah, Yuy an' Chang would need a fifth between 'em to get over the mindfuck I was about to deliver.

That Harley was a fine, sleek piece of vintage machinery if ever I saw one—a fully restored antique—low to the ground and hot enough to hump. Just—sex on wheels.

I rolled that baby outside, whispering an apology to Quatre, as well as the gorgeous machine I was about to hotwire. It seemed a wee bit sacrilegious to play with the wires on a beauty like that—but desperate times, an' all that shit—.

I crept along the edge of the lawn, and then wrestled the Harley between some trees to bypass the camera near the end of the driveway.

And then I was in the clear. A quick touch and twist of some wires, and that baby was purring like a big, bad tiger.

_Me-ow._

Man—the feel of the wind in my face and whipping my braid out behind me, made me feel alive for the first time in days. No scowling cops to look down their fine noses at me—no being treated like a fuckin' idiot—or worse, like the child I'd never been. That machine between my legs felt like sheer freedom and unlimited power.

I'd noticed a couple of cities on the road map Chang had hoarded so selfishly—and I turned the bike in that direction, eager to join a throng of hot, sweaty, writhing bodies on a dance floor—to feel the throbbing beat of the music and the pulsing of adrenaline and testosterone in my veins.

Fuck—I needed to get laid. Badly.

Not that it was likely to happen that night. In spite of my reputation, I was pretty selective about my sex partners. My bluster and posing for Yuy was just that—posing.

In reality, I knew the name of everyone I'd ever slept with—and the list was a lot shorter than I'd led him to believe.

Fuckin' cop.

I don't know why such an anal-retentive prick had to be packaged so very nicely. _Damn_—he was hot! And my fingers just itched to slide inside that button-down shirt and feel that smooth skin over hard muscle—.

Fuck. I _really _needed to get laid.

* * *

When I finally found the city, and made my way to the nightclub district, I was energized and ready to rock.

And the second I saw Hell's Bells, I knew it was the place for me. In fact, I could hear AC/DC music blasting from inside as someone opened the door on their way out.

_Sweet!_

I hid the Harley between a dumpster and a brick wall in an alley, figuring a rad bike like that wouldn't last five minutes out on the street—and then I smoothed back my hair, checked in one pocket of my skin-tight leather pants for my cash, and another for the condom and lube—just in case.

Like I said—the odds were slim—but if a hot enough guy came along, I was pretty desperate for some action. Something to burn away the memory of Zechs' death—and the constant look of scorn in a pair of deep blue eyes.

My elbow bumped the pay phone as I passed it, and I caught at the receiver I'd almost knocked off the hook. And then I stopped and stared at it. A phone.

A lifeline.

I hastily scrounged some money from my pocket and dialed Trowa's cell number. "Pick up, pick up, pick up—," I chanted hopefully.

"Hi—you've reached Trowa—leave a message and—."

I hung up, sighing. It had been worth a try.

I looked at a clock on the wall of a building further down the street—realizing Trowa was at work by then—probably on stage. He'd call back if I left a number, but I really couldn't do that. Plus, I planned to be on the dance floor in the next few minutes.

I found myself dialing the Sanc Palace, knowing the schedule there was a lot looser.

"Sanc."

"Hey, I'm tryin' to reach Hilde. Is she on a break?"

"Hold on."

There was a momentary delay, and then a familiar voice got on the line. "Hilde here." She sounded anxious, and I realized she'd probably think it was her babysitter telling her there was a problem at home.

"Hey, Hil—it's me, Duo."

"Duo!" she blurted, and then her voice got quieter. "Duo—where _are_ you? After the hospital you just dropped off the face of the Earth."

"I know. I'm sorry. An' I can't explain it all right now." I looked up at the flashing neon lights lining the bustling street. "I just—I watched Zechs' funeral today—on television."

"Oh Duo," she sighed.

"I couldn't even be there," I added, swallowing to keep from getting choked up.

"Why not? Where are you? Seriously, Duo—what's going on?"

"I told you—it's nothing I can explain. Just—I have to stay away awhile. And it was really hard to see the funeral and not be able to go. There's not even anyone to talk to about him—no one that would care."

"I care."

"I know," I said, feeling unaccountably better. "I just needed to talk to someone who actually knew Zechs a little—someone who didn't hate him."

"Why would I?"

"You wouldn't," I assured her. "Just—the people I'm with do—."

"Who are you with? Cops?"

"Hilde—stop asking questions," I said firmly. "I can't tell you much. You knew at the hospital that I was in a bit of trouble—so just accept that I'm where I have to be right now."

"You don't sound happy about that."

"I'm not. I'm not happy about anything," I said wearily. "Just—I'm going to a club in a few minutes, and I'm gonna have a drink or two and try to take my mind off things, y'know?"

"Yeah. I know what that's like," she admitted. "Look, Duo—I've gotta go back on in five."

"I know. I just—needed to hear a friendly voice," I told her. "Thanks for talking to me."

"You—take care of yourself Duo Maxwell," she said sternly. "And any time you need someone to talk to, call me?"

"If I can. Say 'hey' to the brat for me," I teased, having called her adorable kid that many times in the past, just to get a reaction out of her.

"Oh, Duo—." She paused, and I heard her heave a sigh. "I've gotta go."

She hung up before I could say goodbye, and I figured her boss got on her case for taking a personal call at work.

Poor kid. She worked hard to support her little boy—and if I'da been there, I'd have kicked Dermail's ass for giving her a hard time. I hated not being able to look after the people I'd cared about.

I almost tried Trowa one more time, but then decided I'd better get busy if I was gonna have my fun on the dance floor, pick up my own cigarettes, and get back to the safe house before my caretakers had fits.

Fuck it—they were gonna have fits no matter what, weren't they? I figured I might as well enjoy myself while I could, and I shook off my somber mood and headed across the street towards Hell's Bells.


	13. Catch and Release

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter eighteen of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Thirteen: Catch—and Release

The bouncer saw me coming, and gave a feral smile, pushing back a couple of wannabees and gesturing me ahead.

"For you, sugar—no cover." He even held the door for me, palming my ass with one big, beefy hand as I strutted past.

Yeah, they knew how to treat Shinigami in a place like this.

I sidled up to the bar and smiled engagingly at the hot ticket working it.

"Water?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow and plunked down a glass of water.

Yeah, I know it sounds silly—but one of the best tricks Trowa ever taught me was staying hydrated while you drink and dance. Keeps away a killer hangover the next day—and with all the yelling and screaming those two cops were gonna do, I did _not _need to be hung over.

Now hung _all _over, yeah. And the guy with short, sandy hair who asked me to dance was doing exactly that an hour or two later, after I'd let him buy me a couple of shots.

He reminded me of Solo, just a bit, with sandy hair and grayish-green eyes—but I didn't hold that against him. On the contrary, I held _me _against him, enjoying the hard planes of his chest under my hands and the firm way he grabbed my ass and pulled my groin up against his. It felt good—good to be touched and to move with another body.

Dancing is almost like sex, y'know—two bodies moving together in the same rhythm—touching and sliding against one another—.

_Fuck, I missed Zechs!_

The sandy-haired guy didn't seem to realize as I turned my back and let his arms slide around me from behind, that I was seeing my dead lover's blue eyes an' that fuckin' arrogant smirk he used to wear.

Of course, then I glanced across the room and saw the fierce blue eyes of Heero Yuy all but burning holes into me with their intensity.

For a second there, I couldn't tell if it was anger or lust making those eyes so luminous.

Yeah, right. Try fury. I was fucked—and not in a good way.

But I kept dancing with Mister Roaming-Hands, and the more he pawed me, the more irritated I got that he wasn't Zechs—and he wasn't a blue-eyed cop I'd been subconsciously drooling over for years, and blatantly lusting after for days.

"C'mon, Sugar—let's go somewhere private," Sandy-Haired Loser murmured in my ear, taking my wrists and trying to lead me off the dance floor.

"Sorry. No," I said flatly, giving him a quick, insincere smile to soften the blow.

He tugged harder—the idiot. "Hey, you been leadin' me on for hours," he said kind of peevishly. "An' you're as hard as I am. I _know _you want it."

He kept pulling, nearly dragging me, towards the bathrooms at the back of the club. "If you're shy, Sugar, it's okay. I'll loosen ya right up—."

I pulled back and planted my feet. I'd lost sight of Yuy, but I had no doubt the hot cop would be right on my heels.

Tired of screwing around with Mister Wrong, I freed up one hand and slipped the switchblade from the top of my boot, tucking it up under his rib cage and allowing him to hear the "snick" as I did so.

He froze, his face going pasty white at the feel of the sharp point pricking his skin.

Yuy shoved through the last of the crowd just a few feet away. "Max."

Oh yeah. The nickname he'd chosen for me at the diner where Rhonda had worked.

"Not your fight, Yuy."

He reminded me it was, and why—and after I sent my dumbshit dance partner packing, he caught my arm in a bruising grip and hustled me out the side door into an alley.

"You fuckin' duck out like this again, Maxwell, and I'll kill you myself."

"I was bored out of my ever-lovin' _mind_!" I exploded at him, unloading a bunch of my frustration in a rant about the wilderness and the quiet and isolation and how crazy it was making me.

He didn't seem particularly impressed as he shoved past me and headed for the car.

"How'd you know where to find me?" I finally thought to ask.

"The same way Oz's hired assassins would."

_Fuck. He had a point_.

* * *

I thought about it on the ride back to the cabin, and the only conclusion I could reach was that Chang and Yuy had been treating me like an idiot because I _was_ one.

Didn't mean I hadda like having it thrown in my face, though, and I'll admit, I sulked the whole way home. And as soon as we got there, I went for the liquor cabinet—still raw from realizing that my self-pity over losing Zechs had made me risk both my life and Yuy's.

I shouldn't have brought up his name, 'cause sure as shit mentioning Zechs was a great way to get Yuy on his high horse.

But he didn't have to mock the way Zechs had made me feel. He deserved to have a drink thrown in his face. And as I headed for the door, this time I was _not_ planning on coming back.

The first time had been a lark—sneaking out like a dumbass kid. This time, however, I meant to go back to my original plan to avenge Zechs' death on my own, and fuck the cops' case and their rules.

I couldn't believe it when I heard him cock his gun, and I looked at him in frank disbelief.

"Sit _down_!"

"Make me."

Ah yes—finally—he lost his temper. And the next thing I knew, we were dancin' our way around that kitchen trading punches and taunts.

And I think we were both kind of enjoying it.

At least, I was—until he got hold of me and swept my legs out from under me—pinning me to the floor with his body. His weight was both oppressive and arousing, as his hips ground down onto mine.

"Let me the fuck _up_!" I squirmed and bucked underneath him, wishing I could get a hand free so I could rip off his balls and feed 'em to him—he looked so fuckin' smug.

"Give it up, Maxwell. I'm not gonna shoot you—you're not gonna leave. You're going to testify against Khushrenada and put him away for a long, long time."

"I ain't gonna do jack shit for you!"

He stared into my eyes for a long moment, and then he kissed me—and fuckin' fireworks went off in my head.

Jesus _Christ_—the guy could kiss!

Those lips just devoured mine, and I relaxed in his grasp, savoring the hot, moist mouth on mine and the heat of his body—the feel of his tongue plunging between my teeth. _Goddamn!_

As he pulled away, leaving me feeling ice cold in his wake, I shook off just enough of my daze to slip his gun out of its holster. And the look on his face as I leveled it at him after he'd gotten up and brushed himself off was just priceless.

"Oops." I fired a shot past his ear just to get his attention.

_Oh—I had it._

He twitched with the urge to attack—I could tell—but he held back, unsure of me, waiting to see what I'd do.

Fuck—I dunno what possessed me—but when I told him to strip, I thought he'd spontaneously combust.

A second shot told him I meant business—or convinced him I was a freakin' lunatic.

"You're a freakin' lunatic!"

_Yep, the latter._

But he stripped.

And he looked so fuckin' fine like that; my original idea to just tie him up for his partner to find flew right out the window.

My candid appraisal got enough of a response that I couldn't resist—I knelt in front of him, keeping the gun trained on his knee, just for effect.

I _had_ the safety back on—but with my thumb over it, he couldn't tell that.

Of course, after I ran my tongue up his cock, he probably couldn't have told you his own name.

If there was one thing I'd learned from Solo, it was how to give a truly impressive blow job. I've brought more than one man to his knees that way—Zechs included. And the hot, blue-eyed cop was no exception.

I felt his fingers slide into my hair, and braced myself for him to try to push me away, but he didn't. In fact, I think he was using me for balance and support.

_Poor baby. Did his legs not wanna hold him up any more?_ No problem. I was in my element, savoring the salty tang on my tongue and his musky scent in my nostrils.

It was over too soon, at least for me—but I wasn't sure how long I could keep him from realizing my own knees were a little weak.

I really wanted him badly—had wanted him since I first laid eyes on him three years earlier. And to have him gasping, groaning deep in his chest and biting his lip so hard it bled as he shot his load down my throat—it was a heady sensation.

He was fuckin' delicious—and as I sat back he actually _did _sink to his knees, his face flushed and eyes practically aglow.

_And those lips!_ They were damp, swollen from being chewed and bitten into near-silence—I just hadda kiss 'em.

Well, if _that _didn't open the floodgates! Next thing I knew, he was peeling me out of my clothes and pressing me to the floor, his lips and hands everywhere. And I just went with it—enjoying the harsh feel of his hands on my skin—taking—demanding—almost punishing.

So I got a little thing for pain. Not that S&M kinda shit—but sometimes I liked it a little rough. And Yuy was too long denied to be gentle. He'd obviously been holding back a shitload of repressed desires—and I think he poured 'em all out at once.

_Lucky me._

I almost forgot the condom and lube; I was so out of my mind from his touch.

But—freakin' Hell! Once he was inside me, I knew I was lost. I'd just never felt so—complete. And with a cop who hated my guts—how sick was that? How fuckin' ironic!

"Harder, dammit! Harder! Fuck me like you mean it!"

And he did. Oh _God_, did he ever! I couldn't have asked for more, as he just let go and literally pounded me into the floor. It felt incredible. Wild. All consuming—like I was just burning up, from the inside out. I never wanted it to end.

But of course, it did. Eventually the buildup of heat and friction and passion had to find a release. And what a release it was!

I nearly passed out when I came, grabbing his shoulders so hard I'm sure I left marks. _Goddamn!_ He was amazing. I'd never seen anything as beautiful as the expression of rapture on his face when he came for the second time.

I'd been at a bad angle before—y'know? Hard t'see a guy's face when you're on your knees with his cock down your throat.

But with it buried inside me, I got to see it all! And he was just plain breathtaking.

Literally.

Even as the gleam of panic entered his eyes and he rolled off me, I was fighting for air. It was the most intense orgasm of my life.

I wanted to cry.

Why'd the best sex I'd ever had, bar none, been with a cop?

I kept my back to him as I grabbed for my clothes. "Told ya it'd help pass the time." I was amazed at how casual my voice sounded, when I was so choked up I could hardly speak.

I made my escape as quickly as I could, shutting the door to my bedroom and leaning back against it, closing my eyes and swallowing to keep the tears at bay.

_Fuckin' cop._

And what was I thinking—letting him get that close? I was so fucked!

I got my lecture later from Chang. He ranted for quite a while, but my mind kept drifting back and I kept glancing at the floor where Yuy had fucked me senseless.

Would I have liked a repeat performance? Damned straight! But as he'd said, I'd gotten all I was getting.

As I stripped down for bed, I was haunted by a pair of intense blue eyes, reaching all the way inside to my soul while I was being fucked through the floor.

_Goddamnit, Yuy—what did you do to me?_


	14. Life and Death

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters nineteen and twenty of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fourteen: Life and Death

Y'know, Diary, there's just nothing like falling into a deep, sated slumber after really earth-shattering sex. It's gotta be the most restful and satisfying kind of sleep there is—unless, of course, assassins come along to screw with it!

Seriously.

I came awake to a whisper of sound, looking up to see Yuy's intense eyes wide with alarm as my switchblade rested against his throat.

He was cool about it—pushed it away with a sort of knowing smirk. "We've been made. Get dressed."

"Fuck."

My stomach plunged to my feet, and I went on autopilot—sliding out of bed and dragging on the outfit I'd thrown so carelessly over a chair.

"Goddamnit, goddamnit... Just like the fuckin' penthouse—."

The rest of that night was a series of scattered, terrifying images—dodging bullets—grabbing a gun to help cover Yuy as he took out our enemies—careening through the forest in a battered SUV—lying face down on the floor of that same SUV with Yuy shielding me with his own body.

Why the fuck did he have to _do _that? I felt even worse about having snuck out. These guys were trying to keep me alive, and I'd acted like a spoiled brat just to indulge in some self-pity and sex.

_Fuckin' incredible sex._

But to get back to the point—as I stood staring at a line of bullet holes in the side of the defunct SUV, it finally came home to me that dodging Khushrenada wasn't just a game of hide and seek. He was dead serious—_deadly_ serious.

"Don't tell me it's the first time anyone's tried to kill you."

"No—just the closest anyone's come."

It wasn't like my life had never been in jeopardy before. I mean, fuck. I grew up on the streets. There were any number of people who'd knife you for the change in your pocket out there. And others who'd do it because of your gang affiliation or the coat you wore.

But those were hazards you could learn to watch for, to avoid, or to take action against. This—what Khushrenada was doing—was on a far grander scale. He was willing to kill me and anyone close to me to ensure my silence.

This was personal.

I'd only met Treize a handful of times, and generally when I was with Zechs. I mean, there was that one time he'd sent flowers to my dressing room at The Jungle, with a note complimenting my performance.

But Zechs had gone pretty ballistic over that, and told me he'd put a stop to it. And apparently he had, since it didn't happen again.

He was a wonderfully jealous lover.

Anyhow, it made the attack that much more horrifying—that Khushrenada knew me and was willing to have me killed without even trying to talk to me and find out what I knew. Of course, if he'd killed Zechs for supposedly talking to the cops, my running off with them had certainly made me equally guilty in his eyes.

I guessed there'd be no reasoning with him now—as if there ever was.

I shouldered a backpack and picked up as much gear as I could carry, more concerned with pulling my weight than sniping with my captors any more. They'd proven they were in this with me to the end, and the least I could do was cooperate.

It still bugged me that Yuy had been injured on my behalf. I'd been nothing but trouble for him, and still he threw himself between me and danger.

Was it still just about the case—the mission? Or could it be that he'd felt something on that safe house floor, just as I did?

And no, I'm not talking about feeling his dick up my ass, so just pull your mind right out of the gutter.

I felt—more. I felt—things I didn't quite understand, and couldn't possibly explain. And honestly, they were things I didn't think I wanted to feel.

It was supposed to have been for fun—just to fuck over a cop—to fuck a cop and then shrug it off and show him how little he really meant to me.

But, it wasn't quite that simple. I had the feeling Heero Yuy didn't give in to his baser urges very often. So the fact that he had—that he'd felt so much attraction that he'd thrown out his iron discipline and indulged in a round of wild sex—seemed to indicate—something.

God, I was gettin' a headache just trying to puzzle out whether it'd been meaningless to him or not.

And he wasn't providing any clues. He was stone-faced and stoic again—all business.

I didn't have the heart to fight him any more, so I backed off and just tried to keep up.

It was harder than it looked—hiking the wilderness. I mean, you see commercials where people are all dolled up in thick-soled boots and clothes that look like they were made for a safari, hiking happily along while chit-chatting and sipping bottled water.

In reality, the ground was steep and uneven, and rocks insisted on rolling just as I put my weight on them, and little tiny black flies buzzed in my face every chance they got.

It sucked. Fucking, goddamned _wilderness_.

But even when I took a header down a steep slope, I just got up and brushed myself off and muttered the vilest curses I could think of, and kept on walking.

When we stopped at nightfall, I even tried helping Yuy clean and re-bandage his wounded leg—but he caught my wrist in a grip so tight I thought he'd broken something. And he told me to keep my hands off him in no uncertain terms.

Guess that answered my questions about the sex. Apparently that's all it was to him, and he was going to make damned sure he didn't touch Zechs Merquise's "leftovers" again.

Sitting there in the pitch blackness of nighttime in the forest, curled up in a blanket, I felt more lost and alone than I had in my entire life. There was nothing left behind me, except the ruins of my life—and nothing ahead of me except trying to stay alive to testify for people who didn't give a shit about me.

And the "right here and now" pretty much sucked too.


	15. Road Hazards

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters twenty and twenty-one of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifteen: Road Hazards

Dear Diary:

Have I ever mentioned how much I _hate _nature?

I mean, face it—I'm a street kid—grew up in the concrete jungle. I just had no idea what was out there in the places no man had ever gone before. (So I like my Star Trek references—sue me.)

Anyway, what was "out there" was a whole lotta stuff you had to pick your way through, over, around, or under. There were rocks, tree roots, brambles, branches, sticks, bushes, stumps…the usual array of obstacles. And under any other circumstances, I might've found them interesting.

Psh—yeah right. Under any other circumstances, I'd have run screaming back to familiar territory.

I could do a fifty-yard dash through a trash can littered alley; but I couldn't seem to avoid a few lumpy tree roots every time I took a step. It was kinda discouraging.

Anyhow, in essence, the second day of hiking was no better than the first, though I started to get used to the way the pack dragged at my shoulders and made my lower back ache. Didn't mean I liked it, but I was _used_ to it. Kind of like the way I was used to the dull pain in my feet each time they hit the ground.

Okay—in my defense, I'd spent a lot of my life on my feet, so it wasn't that I was a wuss or anything. But my boots were steel-toed construction boots; they were not meant for hiking. And the spare pair in my duffel bag was for clubbing, not walking. They were comfy and sexy and looked really hot on the dance floor. But they were not designed for the kind of terrain we had to travel to get to whatever new hellhole my escorts had lined up for me.

'Kay. Whining time's over.

Bitching time begins…

Chang and Yuy nearly let me fuckin' drown! I mean, shit. When we reached the river, I figured they'd turn upstream or down, or turn around all together and look for another way to get where we needed to go.

But no—instead they let me try wading across, fall into a deep, fuckin' ice-cold pool, and thrash around down there for what felt like hours before they condescended to jump in and help me out.

I swear, they did it on purpose. Sadists.

I got my revenge on Chang by stripping down right in front of him to change into dry clothes, and I think I even scared him into trotting off into the underbrush to change. The freakin' prude was afraid I'd ogle his ass!

Frankly, as hot as he was, I'd never felt a sexual attraction. He just exuded homophobia to such an extent that it killed any desire I might've had to get close to that body.

Yuy, on the other hand, was obviously neither a homophobe, nor immune to my charms. But he put up a helluva fight.

"Stop playing games and just let me do my job."

"I'm still just a job to you?" I asked, hoping for—something, I guess.

I dunno what I expected, really. Some admission of feelings? I sure would've liked some reassurance that I wasn't the only one who'd thought our romp on the floor was worth a repeat performance.

Instead I got an icy glare over his shoulder. "Why not? I was just a convenient fuck for you."

Well, that fuckin' stung! Yeah, I'd set out to seduce him. I'd wanted a taste of that gorgeous body.

Trouble was, that single taste just left me hungry for more. And no matter how casual I'd tried to act at the time, I couldn't write him off as just a quick fuck. There was—more to it.

"That's not true—."

"Sure it is. Now shut the fuck up about it."

He walked away before I could argue the point—before I could blurt out that it had started that way, only he'd gotten under my skin so deep I couldn't stop thinking about him—wanting more.

I guess I was a little relieved that he didn't give me the chance to admit so much. I mean, shit. He was a cop. I was a crook. There was certainly nothing to base a relationship on—except really great sex. Right? I mean, it's not like I even had a future I could count on.

And for that matter, why did he seem so incensed about it? Wasn't I just a convenient fuck for _him_? Or was my first inclination—that Heero Yuy wasn't given to losing control the way he had—right on target? Had he felt more than just lust and the need for a quick release?

Yeah, right. I figured I must've inhaled too much water—or maybe my brain had been oxygen-deprived. What was I thinking anyway? That Heero Yuy had _feelings_? For _me_? Not likely.

Before my brain could implode from the effort of trying to read more into our bout of sex than there'd been, I pulled my boots back on and got ready to resume the hike from Hell.

And it really was Hell. I'd had to put wet boots back on, only to be marched at such a pace that I could feel blisters forming on top of my blisters! It was a nightmare. About the only joy I got out of the whole experience was when we took an occasional break and I could lie back and smell the crispness of the air and let the warm sun bake away a few of my aches.

But then we'd be right back on our way again, trudging doggedly along those endless trails.

And if that wasn't bad enough, we not only had to face obstacles; we had to face predators!

I honestly thought Chang and Yuy were just fucking with me when they'd joked about bears—right up until Chang went missing and we had to go rescue him from one.

Actually, it was three—a mom and two cubs. And if you were to ask me how I got up the nerve to step between Yuy's gun and those big, black man eaters—I have no idea.

Temporary insanity. That must've been it! I was so addled from the heat and pain and stress, that I somehow decided keeping Yuy from orphaning two bear cubs was worth risking my life.

There's just no rational explanation for it.

I felt good about it later—but at the time, while we were running for our lives—I'm surprised I didn't shit my pants, I was so scared.

When we got to the lake house—the one with a jacuzzi—I decided I'd actually died and gone to Heaven. Or, well, I would've been willing to, if the two gorgeous cops would've joined me in the hot tub for some wild sex.

Instead, they stayed just as focused on their jobs as ever, talking about setting up perimeters and whether I was going to stay put or not.

I didn't have to fake the somber expression on my face when I told Chang I wouldn't run off again—that I knew how serious Khushrenada was now, and I'd stop being reckless.

But when I threw in a comment about being protected by the only two honest cops in the world, Yuy asked me flat out what my beef was with cops, and he looked at me with such frank interest when I asked if he really wanted to know, that I ended up telling him all about how the Reapers died while I was in lockup.

Jesus fuckin' Christ he just had a way of drawing me out and making me want to explain myself to him. I dunno if I was looking for approval or understanding, but for some reason I wanted him to know that I wasn't as shallow as I'd been acting.

I've gotta wonder where the hell my instinct for self-preservation went—because I told Chang and him things I'd never told a cop before in my life. Things I'd have sworn I'd never tell any cop.

But when he finally believed my story—when I saw the skepticism leave those deep blue eyes and a troubled, almost concerned look enter them, it made me feel like my trust hadn't been misplaced. He actually listened, and believed me, and maybe even felt some righteous indignation over the depths to which some of his colleagues had sunk.

And it struck a chord within me to have just a little understanding from him.

Fuck—I was in deeper with Yuy than I'd been in that stupid river, wasn't I?


	16. A New Low

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters twenty-one and twenty-two of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Sixteen: A New Low

Yeah, you could say I've hit a new low. That's for damn sure. I fucked up and I don't know how to make it right. I don't even think I can.

And things had been going so well.

I'd ransacked the pantry and freezer of that lake house to put together a real dinner for the three of us, and I was fuckin' proud of how it turned out. Zechs would've been proud of me, too.

He was the one who taught me how to cook.

But even before that, he taught me how to actually enjoy food. I mean, growing up on the streets, I'd learned to eat whatever I could get my hands on. Taste wasn't an issue, except that there are some things that are so fuckin' unpalatable that your stomach just won't keep 'em even if you can manage to choke 'em down.

At the orphanage, of course, we had sensible, nutritious meals. And yeah, I did like the special treats Sister Helen made—the birthday cakes and desserts.

But until I met Zechs Merquise I had never tasted lobster, or filet mignon, or caviar (which, by the way, I still don't like). He made me try things I had no interest in trying, and ended up showing me what I'd missed.

And for some reason, when I saw the spice-laden shelves in that kitchen, I had the irresistible urge to treat the two cops who'd pulled my ass out of the fire back at the log cabin, to a special meal.

Chang was off in the shower, and Yuy had gone out to scout the area, so I pretty much had the kitchen to myself, and I merrily tackled the job of making dinner.

When Yuy got back and started calling for Wufei, I turned to see his face when he came into the kitchen and realized I was the one at the stove.

He looked suitably surprised, and then completely amused as he noticed I'd thrown on a ruffled apron. Okay, so it wasn't the most manly outfit—but it kept spaghetti sauce off my jeans.

I sometimes got a little overzealous while cooking, and had a tendency to absently wipe my hands on the front of my pants to get whatever gunk I'd spilled off. And I didn't feel like dirtying what was probably the last clean pair of jeans I'd brought.

Yeah, laundry was next on the list, I supposed.

Anyhow, I got Yuy to taste the sauce I'd made, and the look of surprise and pleasure in his eyes made me just glow. It felt so good to see a hint of admiration in those blue eyes, even if it was just for the sauce.

And it brought my oh-so-stoic cop out of his shell a bit. He actually came over to the stove and stole another taste of the sauce, obviously planning to flirt.

But I beat him to it, grabbing his hand and sucking the sauce-covered finger into my mouth, curling my tongue around it to remind him of a certain knee-melting blow job.

Of course, with his usual impeccable timing, Chang interrupted, and Yuy promptly jerked away; but I know I saw desire in his eyes again, and it gave me hope that maybe he'd break down and let me close again.

I really wanted to be close. Closer. Like the song, heh, heh…

Ah, but back to my story…it all went to Hell so fast after that.

Chang had made my foot soak, which helped with the blisters, and Yuy had taken his shower, and even flirted with me again on the stairs as I headed up for mine. Then I found the sound system in the luxurious bathroom, and took a moment to run and get my Nine Inch Nails cd, so I could enjoy the aforementioned song while I showered.

Uh, and probably jerked myself off, too…thinking of Yuy's flirting and his intense eyes and that very sexy smile I almost never got to see. What can I say? I've got a normal, healthy libido.

Okay, maybe above average.

But to get back to the point—! I'd no sooner finished my shower and started drying off, when there was a rap on the door that just about startled me out of my skin. And I opened it to find two very pissed-off cops in the hallway, looking like they were as ready to kill me as Khushrenada's people.

"Who did you call?"

I gaped at Yuy, whose grip on my shoulders was actually painful.

"_Who_, dammit?"

The light dawned after he shook me hard enough to rattle my brains a little, and I realized that he'd somehow found out about my call to Hilde.

But what did that have to do with anything, and why was he so totally pissed about it?

"No one who'd have told anyone about it…"

And then Chang whipped out his gun and leveled it at me with a completely serious and deadly expression on his face.

Something about the whole turnaround in mood just struck me wrong, and I thought back to the things that had led up to my call to Hilde—Chang's attitude, Zechs' funeral—how fuckin' lost and alone I'd felt. Then my own temper flared and I told him to go the fuck ahead.

"You want to die?"

And I realized that when I'd snuck out of the log cabin, part of me hadn't really cared. If some assassin had tracked me down and put a bullet in my head, it would've been a relief at the time. I wouldn't have been left on this godforsaken rock to mourn my dead lover, and hang out with fuckin' cops, and dodge killers just for the unique privilege of turning State's evidence against Treize Khushrenada. I should've died a dozen times in my life—so yeah, maybe I had a bit of a death wish.

I blew up at Chang, and he and Yuy both blew up at me.

And then Yuy told me someone from Sanc called Khushrenada right after I talked to Hilde—that _she _called—and I felt like someone had stuck a block of ice right in the middle of my chest.

_Hilde?_

I thought of all the times I fuckin' pushed her kid on the swings at the park, and how I'd given her tickets to take him to the circus. Not that I wanted to be the kid's father figure or anything—but I was always a sucker for children, and I genuinely felt bad for Hilde having to raise one all by herself.

And she gave me up to Khushrenada.

"I fuckin' trusted her—."

"You deserve to die, Maxwell. You're a goddamned idiot."

Yeah, I was. I'd let my guard down yet again—let someone close enough to stab me in the back. And I felt like a complete fool. But the cops wouldn't let up until I railed at them about how fuckin' alone I'd felt and how I hadn't really cared what happened to me. I told them I'd needed to be someplace dark and smoky, where the music and the booze and the sex would drown out the pain for awhile.

Of course, Chang started in on Zechs and how he deserved what he got, and that just finished it for me. I couldn't stand there and hear him talk about the fucking Persian rug, without seeing it all over again…the look on Khushrenada's face as he pulled the trigger, the splash of blood and gore all over the place, and the way they dumped Zechs onto the floor.

I'm surprised I didn't get sick right then and there—between the knots in my stomach and the near panic attack that reliving the murder brought on.

But I made it back to my room, flung myself on the bed, and wished to God that I'd tried to stop Khushrenada. They could've buried me along with Zechs, and the world would've gone on turning, just like it always did.

Yuy stopped by a moment later, checking up on me. No, scratch that; he was checking up on his witness against Khushrenada. His only concern was that I keep breathing long enough to earn him his conviction against the crime lord.

I assured him I wasn't suicidal—that he'd have his precious testimony—that I'd stop fighting him and Chang and cooperate like a good little stoolie. I promised to play it all by their rules.

I was so fuckin' tired—tired of losing people, missing them, running and hiding—living. It was just such a struggle every goddamned day. I had no fight left in me.

God, I wished Yuy would just break down and hold me again. It'd felt right in his arms, for the brief time I'd been there. He'd made me _feel _again…given me incentive to keep dragging my ass through the wilderness. And now that tenuous link was broken by one stupid phone call. He'd never trust me again, and whatever flirting and teasing I'd been able to coax out of him was gone for good.

I didn't even care that there was a faint trace of worry for me in his blue eyes. It was just about the case, after all—about the stupid street-trash whore who'd witnessed a high profile crime. But if that was all Yuy wanted from me—my testimony—I was at least going to cooperate and give it to him. I just didn't have the energy to care any more.


	17. Limbo

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters twenty-three and twenty-four of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Seventeen: Limbo

I was _not _sulking. No matter what Chang or Yuy might've thought about the way I acted after our big blow up, I wasn't sulking.

I _was _staying out of the way of the two guys whose job it was to keep me alive—trying not to make any extra work for them—trying to give half a shit about staying alive.

Wasn't as easy as it looked, either. While I managed to fill my time by drawing or listening to my music, time seemed to slow to a crawl for me. Even a little flirting over breakfast with Heero didn't occupy me long enough to revive my enthusiasm for living.

I even tried to help out with dinner one night, but Chang just snapped that they didn't need any help, and I realized the ice in the atmosphere was there for good.

Or so I thought…until Yuy walked into my room a couple of days later and shoved the phone into my hand.

"Winner's on the line."

Quatre? I had no idea why my lawyer would be calling, and I knew we were supposed to be conserving batteries, so I took the phone kind of hesitantly. "Quat?"

"Yes, Duo, it's me."

"Hey, it _is _you. What's up, man?"

"How _are _you, Duo?"

"Me? I'm fine, why?"

"Heero said you seemed—unhappy."

"No…I'm not. Well, maybe a little," I admitted. "It's…a little lonely."

Well wasn't that the understatement of the year? I'd never felt so alone in my life. Though, I gotta admit, hearing Quatre's voice so full of concern made me feel a whole lot better.

And I felt even better when Trowa came on the line.

"Shini—God, I've been worried sick. How are you?"

"Tro'? Fuck, it's good to hear your voice." I had to swallow to keep from gettin' choked up, and honestly, I did anyway. "I wish I could see you…"

"Same here, love. I'd fucking wrap you in the biggest hug ever, an' never let go."

"Yeah, me too," I sighed, wishing I could collect on that promise right then and there.

We didn't talk for long, but Trowa said all the right things, about how he didn't care if I'd goofed up by calling Hilde—he understood how hard it was for me to see Zechs' funeral on television. He always knew what I needed to hear.

The only thing he got wrong was when he tried telling me that the cops were worried about me—that Yuy was, and had said as much when he called Quatre. I told him he was fuckin' delusional.

But, y'know, just having a few minutes of hearing Trowa's soothing voice—and realizing there was still one friend in my life who'd never, ever turn on me—made a world of difference.

After I gave the phone back to Yuy, who obviously had been just around the corner listening to every word I said, I returned to my sketch book feeling decidedly better.

Like I've said before, Trowa was a real pal. He'd cared enough to force me off the drugs, and to help me find work; he'd been a gentle, passionate lover and a totally kinky guy at times. We'd shared a bed more times than I could count, an apartment in the city until I got my own, and oddly enough a romantic streak that told us both we needed each other's friendship more than love. We were both looking for that elusive "something" out there. And when it looked like I found it with Zechs, Trowa was man enough to push me into being exclusive with him. He was the one who suggested giving up the "benefits" part of our friendship, if it was something that would get in the way of my relationship with Zechs. And he also promised that he'd be there for me if things went bad.

Sometimes I wondered if I was a total fool for not telling him I loved him and that he was all I needed—that Zechs was exciting and dangerous and passionate—but that I'd just as soon have steady and loyal and loving Trowa. I knew one thing for sure. If Zechs had ever made me choose—told me that I couldn't remain friends with Trowa—I'd have dumped his ass in a heartbeat. And Trowa's warm voice on the phone made me realize that was the right decision. He'd been there for me through thick and thin, and he planned to continue the tradition.

God, I loved that guy—in so many ways.

But I'd also picked up on the fact that he was with Quatre. They were somewhere _together_. And despite a twinge of worry on my friend's behalf, I didn't dare feel jealous of his interest in the handsome blonde lawyer. He deserved the kind of stomach-fluttering feelings Zechs had given me. And if Quatre gave them to him, I'd be as supportive of Trowa as he'd been of me.

Even if it hurt.

I decided that Trowa's little pep talk should be put to good use, and resolved to buck up and get my tough attitude back. I'd been wallowing in self-pity long enough, even if I called it cooperating with my captors. It was time to act more like myself again. I could still behave myself, and help Yuy and Chang in their efforts to protect me, without becoming a silent, somber shadow like I'd been.

I couldn't let Trowa down, now could I?

So I went down to make myself something to eat, and ended up talking to Yuy and Chang about Hilde and her kid for a while—the first actual conversation we'd had since our big blow up. Chang was all for throwing the book at her, but once the shock of knowing she'd sold me out wore off, I hadda admit, I knew why she did it. The kind of money Khushrenada was offering for my head was enough for her to take good care of her kid. Since she'd never found the sugar daddy she was after, she'd had to work two jobs to afford a decent life. I could see why, when it came to a choice between helping her kid and staying loyal to a guy who'd turned her down, she'd choose the kid.

Didn't mean I liked it. But I understood. It's a dog eat dog world, y'know. Sometimes ya gotta protect your own.

I was just glad I still had my unshakeable faith in Trowa. You'd think after Hilde's betrayal I might've wondered if he'd be next. But I never did. I just knew, deep in my heart, that Trowa would never do anything to hurt me.

I also knew, and I have no idea why, that Yuy and Chang, for all their bluster and contempt, were both willing to die to protect me. In Chang's case it was a matter of honor and duty; but in Yuy's, I guess I still hoped there was a smidgeon of something more mixed in there.

I think I might've been content with him just feeling a little sense of obligation for the really nice blow job I'd given him. But I really hoped there was even a bit more. I wanted to believe he wanted me alive for more than his precious court case.

After all, he'd called Quatre, hadn't he? I didn't know what that meant—but I was almost sure it meant _something_.

And the next day, we finally had a little heart-to-heart about the sex on the floor.

Yuy seemed to think I'd initiated it just for the hell of it, and I tried to set him straight. But it was kind of hard when I couldn't exactly pin down my own motives. I mean, sure, I'd lusted after his body. And when I lifted his gun, all that was on my mind was seeing him naked and maybe embarrassing him a bit.

But when it came right down to it, I'd been desperate to feel something more than fear and loneliness; I'd needed to be touched and held and, well, fucked through the floor.

Not that I could seem to make Heero understand it hadn't just been an outlet for my frustrations. He really thought it meant nothing to me—and I didn't know how to correct that impression without revealing that I had more than a passing crush on him.

I wasn't ready to make that admission…not by a long shot! Jesus Christ, I'd've had to be crazy to give him that much leverage over me. If he knew I was attracted to his single-mindedness and the sheer determination and competence he exuded…

Well, let's just say I didn't want to give him that much of an upper hand. It was better that he thought my lust was just a fleeting thing—that I was a shallow, selfish player—than that he know I harbored some real feelings for him.

Fuck! Did I just say that?

Fortunately, the conversation got around to Zechs, and how we met, and I was able to amuse Heero enough to divert his attention temporarily, though we did end up back on the subject of our little indiscretion when I tried to apologize for the whole "gun" thing.

Of course, he seemed to think I was regretting the incident, and I had to correct him on that. I needed him to know I didn't regret having sex with him. I don't know why that mattered so much, but it did.

"I was only going to apologize for the way I forced you. I wasn't going to say I was sorry."

Whether it tipped my hand or not, I needed him to know that much. I _wasn't _sorry it had happened, regardless of how it got started. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat, if I ever got the chance.

I hoped maybe he could read between the lines enough to know I still wanted him. Not that I thought I had a chance, since he made it clear he needed an emotional connection with his sex partners, and I couldn't picture him having any kind of feelings for me. But I at least wanted to leave the offer out there for him—in case, maybe, that spark I thought I saw in his eyes from time to time wasn't all in my imagination.

God—I'm a fuckin' dreamer, aren't I?


	18. Revelations

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter twenty-five of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Eighteen: Revelations

Dear Diary,

Chang's a complete ass. I swear, I'll believe that to my dying day—which could be almost any time now.

I mean, fuck—I had some fun with the poor guy, I gotta admit. Skinny-dipping in the hot tub was a riot, just because of the way he sputtered and blushed and got totally mortified by my nudity.

I wondered if maybe he was a closet bi-sexual. I mean, would a regular heterosexual guy give a shit about another guy's bare ass? Seriously. Guys change in locker rooms all the time. And they don't get embarrassed about it. Hell, some of 'em compare size, while they're at it—quite shamelessly. It's a macho thing.

But Chang? When I strolled through the living room peeling out of the terry cloth robe I'd borrowed from a closet, I thought the poor guy'd get a nosebleed, his face got so red. Every ounce of blood in his body must have rushed straight to his cheeks.

What a fuckin' prude!

Yuy, on the other hand, had a lot fewer hang-ups.

When he showed up and sat on the edge of the hot tub, I figured out right quick that he and Chang were up to something. I mean, he'd been working so hard to put distance between us after the sex on the safe house floor—and all of a sudden he was leaning over, running his fingers through the water of the hot tub as if he might reach in and touch me.

Gotta say—it took my breath away.

I wanted him to touch me so badly.

"Coming, Maxwell?"

"I _could _be."

Fuck! Could I _ever_! If he'd just slide that hand down between my legs and—.

Oh, right. Coming to lunch—.

He flirted with me. The guy was fuckin' flirting again. And as for me, I was just so hung up on his moody blue eyes and that muscular body, that I'd take anything he'd give.

Of course, when I touched his wrist, he flinched away from me, as usual. And I remembered the interrogation room, and his snide crack about "leftovers," and man—it just stung like blazes.

Until he hinted that if Chang hadn't been hovering nearby, maybe there'd have been more to his teasing than putting on a show for his partner. He didn't say _what _he might've done—but he sure seemed to be trying to say he'd have done _something_.

And _God_, I wanted him to do something to me in the worst way!

Shit. Still in way over my head, wasn't I?

* * *

When I woke up that night to Yuy yelling at the top of his lungs, I just about jumped out of my skin, terrified that we were about to be shot at again. But it turned out he just had a nightmare.

Could I ever relate to that! I didn't tell him, but I'd hardly slept two hours at a time since Zechs' death. I woke up most nights in a cold sweat, gasping for breath as I relived the murder.

Before that, my worst nightmares had been of the fire that killed the Reapers. Even though I wasn't there to see it, my imagination filled in the screams, and the smoke, and the smell of scorching flesh—night after night.

It was better when I slept with Trowa. For some reason, his presence seemed to ease the tortured dreams my brain wanted to conjure up; though occasionally, he had to hold me while I sobbed through an especially painful recollection of two cops dragging me into an alley and raping me when I was around nine or ten. Yeah, that was something I didn't care to share—with anyone. Even Zechs hadn't been privy to that tidbit.

I mean, sure, I was gonna tell him about it—and I would've, eventually. But—fuck—it was just plain agony to even remember it, let alone talk about it. Stupid little shit that I was at that age, I should've known better than to let myself get cornered. It felt like I'd walked right into it; like I deserved the crap I got, because I was dumb enough to let it happen.

I remember Trowa lying there holding me in a death-grip, saying "not your fault" over an' over again. God love him—the guy tried; but I never quite got to the point of fully believing him.

"I know a little about nightmares," I confessed to Yuy, hoping to get him to open up a little and tell me what had yanked him so forcefully out of sleep.

"I'm sure you do. But you can't help me with mine."

At least he admitted I might know what I was talking about. But the stubborn fucker wouldn't even give me a chance to try to help him. "Mister Tough-Guy Yuy doesn't need anyone or anything, does he?" I pointed out snidely. "Sweet dreams."

It would've served the proud asshole right if he didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night. As for me, I went back to bed, hoping _my_ screams wouldn't be the next wakeup call for all three of us.

Of course, when I saw Yuy nodding over his coffee cup a few hours later, I felt like a heel for being so grumpy. He really looked like he _hadn't _gone back to sleep. And having had the same problem with my own nightmares on many occasions, I could honestly sympathize.

"Morning."

"So it is," he sighed.

"Is it okay if I sit out on the deck this morning?"

"Not in the hot tub?"

Oh, could it be he was in the mood to flirt again? I looked a bit harder at him, trying to guess at his intentions. "Well, maybe once Wuffers is up and around I'll take a dip—just for the shock value."

_C_'_mon, Yuy_—_offer to join me..._

He noticed my sketch pad under my arm and asked about it, so I told him it helped pass the time.

"Like sex?" came a rather sharp response.

Well—ouch. I wasn't quite expecting the rebuke in his tone, let alone the change in subject. "I told you that wasn't what it was about!" I found myself once again trying to defend my motives.

"No—it was a distraction," he accused.

"You won't let it be anything else!" I shot back.

"Such as—?"

Whoa. He called my bluff there. I was going to have to 'fess up to having wanted more than a quick fling, or let him keep thinking I was the kind of slut he'd had me pegged for from the start.

Unfortunately, it was really starting to matter to me that he not keep that opinion of me.

"Such as—a beginning."

"A beginning? Maxwell, you're in witness protection. After the trial you'll be relocated. Do you understand what that means?"

Well, fuck yeah, I understood. It meant I'd never see Trowa again, or Father Maxwell, Sister Helen and the kids, or Howard, or _anybody _I cared about.

"So how can you begin _anything_?"

Ah—time for a little Maxwell philosophy. "Yuy—there can be beginnings, middles, and endings—all in the blink of an eye. Who's to say the value in a moment is how long it lasts?"

Case in point, our wild sex on the safe house floor had really only been a few minutes. But I could still feel the hard grasp of his hands on my shoulders, and the heat of his kiss, and the burn as he pushed inside of me—even the throb of his pulse against my inner walls as he came—I could feel it all as if it just happened. It was a memory I planned to take to the grave with me.

"If that attack on the cabin had happened while we were—. We'd be dead now, because we got lost in a moment."

"But what a moment."

I, for one, would have died happy.


	19. Touchy Subjects

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters twenty-five and twenty-six of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Nineteen: Touchy Subjects

Heh—I got so hung up on Yuy's flirting last entry that I never got back around to the subject of why I think Chang's a first-class asshole, did I?

Yeah, well, not only had he been giving me double the attitude since my screwed-up phone call to Hilde—but he managed to mock my sketches and then call me a goddamned child molester.

And don't try to tell me he didn't know what he was saying. That guy never let anything slip past his lips that he didn't weigh, calculate, and deliver with brutal force.

"You—sketch?"

"What if I do? Y'think just 'cause I was a stripper I can't have any hobbies?"

"Of course you can. I just thought they'd include straight lining heroin or molesting little boys."

I fuckin' saw red. Chang had set off a land mine only a few people in my whole life had ever managed to trigger; and the next thing I knew, he was on the floor and I was on top of him, trying to pound his face into paste until Yuy dragged me away.

"Easy there, tiger."

He dumped me on the couch, making sure he stayed between me and his flustered-looking ass of a partner.

"He was joking—."

"It's not a joke!"

Fuck if _that _wasn't an understatement! After what'd happened to me, I was willing to kill to make sure no other child went through the same thing. If anyone had tried to lay a hand on the kids from the orphanage, I'd've carved their heart out of their chest—and I'd've laughed while I did it.

"Oh God."

Yuy's horrified whisper made me snap out of my anger and realize what I'd just admitted.

Jesus Christ—there was the pity again! I shoved away from both of them as quickly as I could, and took off for my room, angry at Chang for stirring up painful memories, and at myself for letting them in on my deep, dark secret.

I slammed the door hard enough to let them know I wanted to be left alone—for the rest of my fuckin' life—and then I shoved my face deep into my pillow and screamed as loud and long as I could, trying to let out some of the frustration.

Of all the things for Chang to bring up—why'd he have to stumble across _that_? I mean, if he'd started in on Zechs' murder again, I would've been prepared for it. But out of the goddamned blue, he lit on something he had no idea had ever happened to me.

See why I think he's an ass?

And yeah, I know he had no way of knowing ahead of time. That's the only reason why, when he came to apologize a bit later, I let him. No matter how much our little episode in the living room hurt, he hadn't done it on purpose.

In fact, it might've been the first time he _inadvertently_ hurt me. The other times? Yeah, I think those were very deliberate. His mention of cutting off my braid no doubt stemmed from his noticing I valued it. And the way he flung Zechs' death in my face was cruel and calculated, every fucking time.

I didn't mind the insults, or even the fact that he'd made me dump my weed, when it would've helped calm me down so much during a lot of this ordeal. I could take that kind of shit from him.

And when I watched the proud asshole beg my forgiveness—when I knew he was genuinely horrified by the depth of the pain he'd caused me—well, it gave me hope there was a human being under his harsh and unforgiving exterior.

How could I not meet him halfway?

"I guess maybe I've been called worse before."

"If you have, it was unjust. You are a better person than you want the world to believe."

I was half-tempted to tease the bastard about having a crush on me for a comment like that. And it was as out of the blue as the child molester crack had been. But I let him deliver it and make his exit, if only to give him time to believe what he'd just said.

Of course, he'd no sooner left than I recalled dropping my sketch pad on the floor before tackling him. I decided I'd better retrieve it before he and his partner got a look at the portraits I'd done of them.

When I found it on the window seat, I knew I was too late. If they picked it up off the floor, they must have looked through at least some of the pictures. I honestly didn't mind if they saw my artistic renditions of Trowa and Zechs; but I'd tried to capture the intensity of Heero's eyes on paper, as well as the undeniably aristocratic features of his partner. And I was unaccountably embarrassed that they knew I'd looked that closely at them.

Well, who wouldn't? I mean, I already admitted to having the hots for Yuy. And despite being straight as an arrow, Chang was a fuckin' gorgeous guy. I could've stared at the two of them all day long and never tired of the view.

"Can't help drawing the hot guys," I blurted out, in what I hoped was a casual and teasing tone of voice.

"Maxwell—."

I caught myself halfway up the stairs, realizing Heero was going to try to apologize, too. And I just wasn't up to being handed more pity right then. "Let it go, Yuy."

He offered almost the same thing I'd offered him after his nightmare—someone to talk to; someone who'd listen, and who might even understand a bit. And when I tried to brush him off, he used my own "tough guy" line on me, the snarky bastard.

But then, he threw me a couple of curves.

First he brought up the subject of us having sex at the log cabin; only this time instead of pushing the issue of how I'd forced him into it, he pointed out that I'd only had the gun during the blow job, and after that he'd tossed it aside before fucking me into the floor.

So he was finally admitting he'd been a willing participant. That was new.

He seemed to think it was a pretty big screw-up, though—that it somehow made him less of a cop. I guess he wanted me to stop holding his occupation against him. That was gonna be—hard. I had a really deep-seated hatred of cops, and an inability to trust them as far as I could throw 'em.

But, for him, I thought I could make an exception. Maybe. I'd have to think on that for awhile.

As for the second curve—he told me there was a surprise for dinner. "A good one."

Not that I didn't think he and Chang could cook—but I'd seen them fumbling around the kitchen and it hadn't inspired confidence.

"Yuy—the only good news you could give me would be that Khushrenada confessed, called off his hit men, and then shot himself out of remorse."

Wouldn't _that_ have been nice?

"I'm assuming that hasn't happened."

"I—wish it had," he offered in a wistful, sincere tone that tugged at my heartstrings.

I was tempted to turn around and throw myself into his arms and beg him to just hold me and tell me everything would be okay. But I couldn't have handled a rejection right then. So instead, I continued on my way up the stairs, wanting nothing more than a relaxing, soothing shower and maybe some pills that would knock me out so completely that I might be able to sleep a whole night through.

Sadly, the shower was going to have to suffice, since I didn't even have my piddling little stash of weed any more. Looked like another sleepless night ahead.


	20. Sweet Surprise

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters twenty-six and twenty-seven of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Twenty: Sweet Surprise

I took my time in that shower, not really caring about whatever surprise Yuy and Chang had cooked up. I figured it was probably some ancient Chinese dessert that the slanty-eyed cop decided to make as part of his apology for stepping all over my feelings.

If either of them really wanted to make me feel better—a nice hot make-out session might've done the trick.

At any rate, I cranked up the music and let it wash over me along with the hot water, while I tried not to think about Heero, and the conflicting feelings he brought out in me.

I mean, Zechs had only been dead a couple of weeks, and I'd let a cop fuck me. Let him? Hell, I'd forced him.

Okay—he met me halfway—even if it boiled down to seduction at gunpoint. Maybe I could call it coercive persuasion?

Anyhow, to get back to the point, I was still trying to pin down the reasons I was so obsessed with Heero. I mean, sure, the blue eyes were amazing—deeper than the color of twilight—full of depth and thoughts I just couldn't fathom.

But it was more than the eyes.

As I'd told Heero earlier that same morning, part of what I'd found attractive about Zechs was the sheer power the man exuded. And I'm not talkin' about the power that came from having money and lackeys to do your bidding.

Zechs had a presence—a kind of charisma, I guess. When he wanted something, you could just tell he was gonna get it.

And I'd given him a run for his money, I'll tell ya. I didn't fall at his feet because of who he was or what he owned. I made him work for my respect, and just about bend over backwards for my trust.

So—why did I trust Yuy already? I mean, he was a cop, dammit. And I'd never had reason to trust one before; yet I knew almost the moment I met him that he was honest through and through. Weird.

Even Chang, for all his talk of honor and duty, wasn't as patently full of integrity as his partner. He had a mean streak.

Yuy—didn't.

He could be angry, distant, stern, and contemptuous. But those were all honest emotions, honestly expressed; he made no attempt to hide how he felt. And he didn't take the kind of cheap shots Chang did. He may have misunderstood things now an' then—and hurt my feelings because of that—but even when he was harsh with me, I kind of felt it was justified.

I mean—I _had _tried to pretend the sex was meaningless. It was my own damned fault if he believed that and acted accordingly.

And now that I'd tried to rectify that mistake, and let him know I wished it could be some sort of a beginning, his attitude had changed—softened a bit. I could tell he was trying to understand me, and figure out how to proceed. He was just fumbling at it as badly as I was.

Weren't we quite the pair?

Did it make me an awful person that such a short time after my lover died I was starting to harbor feelings for someone new?

Whoa. Feelings? Time to back up the trolley. Or at least send it off somewhere else until I wanted to deal with the heavy subject matter it was carrying. I mean, attraction isn't the same as affection—obviously, or Yuy never would have been able to screw me senseless when to all appearances he didn't even like me.

But then, if it was nothing more than physical attraction between us, why did I want him to like me?

Oh fuck. I wanted him to like me. I wanted him to have more than just reluctant lust for me.

I was fuckin' doomed.

I managed to calm myself and clear my mind a bit by indulging in that shower for an obscene length of time. And after I'd dried off and donned my jeans, I took my sweet time drying my hair, reveling in the silky texture and idly wishing I could use it to lure Heero close again.

Speak of the devil…

I was combing out my hair when I caught sight of Heero in the hallway, sort of staring at me with an oddly transfixed look on his face.

_Can you say "eye candy?"_

Yeah, I knew what he was lookin' at. With my hair down and cascading around my shoulders, I was hot. An' that's not bragging.

He looked more embarrassed at being caught looking than I was that he'd seen me singing and dancing while combing out my hair. Damn, he was cute when he was wanting.

Then I glimpsed someone else reach the top of the stairs and turn our way, and my breath caught in my throat.

_Trowa._

I'd dropped everything and dashed down that hall and into his arms almost before the hair brush clattered to the floor.

"Tro'—God, I've missed you—," I breathed into his neck, clinging tightly as he stroked my hair and murmured soothingly.

"It's okay now," he said gently. "It'll be okay."

I muffled a sob, swallowing hard. "It's been so fuckin' lonely—."

He lifted my chin and gave me one of those patented "forget your own name" kisses I could swear he'd invented. And I gave it right back with everything I had, realizing how starved for affection I'd been.

Yeah, I know. I'd had sex with Yuy—he'd kissed the breath right out of me. But that had been passion and lust—not love and caring. And right then, I needed genuine affection more than anything.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" came Chang's disgusted voice. He stomped past us and clattered down the stairs bitching to Yuy at the top of his lungs about Tro' an' me makin' out in the hallway.

Fuckin' prude.

In addition to themselves, my rescuers had brought pizza and beer; I swear that was a close second to the hug and kiss from Trowa for bringing me sheer happiness. And the action flick wasn't half-bad either.

Hey, it provided diversion, while I lounged with my head in Trowa's lap, enjoying the long, slim fingers sliding through my hair. Plus, it gave us a chance to demonstrate our talents for our very special audience…and to fuck with the Chinese prude.

He had it coming to him when we did the striptease. He totally asked for it—and we totally delivered.

Granted, my mind was on Heero and I was hoping to rekindle that flame I'd seen in his eyes when he fucked me through the floor of the log cabin.

And I was sure Trowa's thoughts featured a blue-eyed lawyer.

So the dance was for them; pissing off Chang was just a bonus.

I'd always found dancing with Trowa to be both erotic and comfortable. We knew each other's bodies so well, we could move practically as one. Hell, we'd fucked enough that we _were_ practically one.

But for the first time in a long career of performing with Trowa, I found my attention slightly lacking, as I tried to catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eyes to see if Heero was even a little impressed by the show.

He seemed to be; and it was very obvious Quatre was. I noticed the hot blonde lawyer's cheeks were a ruddy pink, and his eyes had an almost glassy sheen to them as my partner and I finished our dance.

And, damn! He was good-looking on a bad day—but with his lips parted and face flushed with lust, he was downright delicious!

I might've felt a passing surge of lust for the pretty attorney, except that I noticed his gaze was focused on Trowa, to the exclusion of all else. Yeah, he had it bad. And unless I'd misread my friend, it was a mutual attraction.

Wouldn't I like to be part of whatever sandwich they wanted to make?

Okay—just for the record—I'd never tried a threesome. But after hanging out with Yuy and Chang, and now Quatre and Trowa—ya can't blame me for considering it. So many hot guys; so little time...

Trouble was, anything that didn't involve Heero Yuy, was less than I wanted from life right then. I'd seen him lose control—seen him with a fire in his eyes that all but consumed me—seen those same eyes half-close in a haze of ecstasy as he came. And I was painfully eager to see it all over again—repeatedly.

Thoughts of those deep blue eyes sort of crowded out any other interests I might have considered a few weeks earlier.

Fuckin' cop. Fuckin' gorgeous, passionate, insatiable cop.

What can I say? I like adjectives. And Heero Yuy, obviously.

I thought from the distracted look on Heero's face that maybe I got through to him—until I slipped up and called him "lover," only to get another brush-off.

Fuck him anyway! There were plenty of guys who'd have been thrilled to have me make the offers I'd made to him. And he still didn't want them.

When I sulked off to bed, I'd have gladly taken anything Trowa offered—but this time it was just a back rub.

Not to say that's a bad thing—Trowa had the most talented hands ever, and could give a back massage that'd make you forget your own name. And right about then, I wanted to forget a whole lot of things.


	21. Confession

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter twenty-seven of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Twenty One: Confession

"God, you're so tense—!" Trowa hissed as his hands began their warm, soothing trek down my back.

"You have no idea," I sighed. "Been going fuckin' nuts with those two."

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully, moving to straddle my legs and settle his weight on the backs of them. "So what's with you and the cop?"

Shit! He'd seen the way I was looking at Yuy. Tro' was nothing if not observant. But I tried bluffing my way through, not really wanting to go into the whole story. If I did, I might have to admit to feelings I didn't want to acknowledge. "Hm?"

"Don't be evasive, Duo. I know you too well."

Duck and cover. "How about you and my lawyer?"

He laughed. "Diversionary tactics don't work on me, love. You should know that by now."

_Well shit._

"Yeah. You high-wire performers—total focus."

I danced around his curiosity for a few more minutes, just to keep him on his toes. But I knew the moment I'd seen him there that I'd talk to him about what happened between Heero an' me.

"I kind of did something—bad," I finally got around to saying.

Trowa gave a warm little chuckle, used to my understated confessions. "Okay, Shini—what did you do that was so awful?"

"I—kinda—sleptwithacop."

I peered cautiously over one shoulder as his hands stilled on my back, and his green eyes were wide, in a rare display of genuine surprise.

"At gunpoint," I added.

Trowa's expression changed to concern and then—anger? "Which one of them forced you—?" he demanded sharply.

"Oh—fuck no!" I blurted, twisting so I was facing him. "It wasn't like that, Tro'. It was me—I was the one with the gun—."

"You? But—?" He shook his head, actually mustering a vague smirk. "Since when have you ever had to force anyone?"

"Wasn't 'forced.' Not _really_."

"Better start at the beginning, love," he suggested firmly.

So I did. I told him about how hard it had been to watch Zechs' funeral on national television—knowing I couldn't be there to say goodbye. And I told him about sneaking out, even though he'd heard it from Quatre. I told him about the call to Hilde, going clubbing, and having Heero show up to drag my ass back to the cabin.

Then I told him the rest—the fight—the blowjob—and the incredible sex.

"—so I—I said I'd _told_ him it'd help pass the time—."

Trowa had one of those odd little knowing looks on his face. "But—?" he prompted gently.

"But what?" I asked, playing dumb.

"I sense there's a bit more to it—?"

I shrugged, not able to quite look him in the eye.

"Fuck," he breathed in disbelief. "You fell for him, didn't you?"

"No!" I said sharply. "Jesus, Tro'—he's a cop. I can't lose my head over a fuckin' cop!"

Yeah, well—that ship had pretty much sailed—but that didn't mean I couldn't try to deny it with my dying breath.

He caught my chin in his hand, turning me to face him. "I think maybe it's too late."

"It's not!" I surged up to meet him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him deeply—anything to distract myself from the image of Heero Yuy's intense blue eyes focused on me as he came.

Trowa kissed back, but then pulled away, shaking his head. "Don't hide behind me, Duo. You tried that when you realized you were getting serious about Zechs, remember? Just before he asked you to be exclusive—you tried convincing yourself that what you an' I had was the same. But it wasn't. And it isn't this time either. I can see the way you look at Yuy—the need in your eyes. He's gotten under your skin in a big way."

"Bullshit," I tried again. "He's just a cop."

"Aw, Shini—you were never a very good liar," he chided gently. "So tell me—how'd 'just a cop' make you hot enough to pull a gun to seduce him?"

"I was upset about Zechs—the funeral—," I stammered uneasily.

"Uh huh."

"Seriously, Tro'. I was just gonna make him strip—humiliate him a little—but then—."

"Then—?"

"He was just—fuckin' gorgeous. An' the look in his eyes—. He wanted it, too. He wanted _me_."

"Obviously, since he fucked you _after_ he took the gun away." Trowa had a sort of pensive look on his face, and I reached up to touch it.

"What're you thinkin'?" I asked quietly.

"Just—wondering where he's coming from—what his angle is."

I shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. "He wanted a quick fuck. An' that's what I was goin' for, too—until—."

"Until—?"

I looked down at the comforter, picking uneasily at it. "It was fuckin' great," I mumbled reluctantly. "It felt—right."

"Shit," he murmured sadly. "He's a _cop_, Duo."

"I know that."

"You _hate _cops."

"I know!" I closed my eyes, trying not to let Heero's face immediately come to mind. I failed miserably. "It's just—we talked—after he called you an' Quatre. I swear, Tro', it feels like he cares—at least a little bit."

"Are you so sure he's not just taking what you're offering? That he won't just walk away when this is all over?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "I mean, technically, I'm supposed to do the 'walking away,' when they put me in relocation. He even pointed that out to me when I tried to tell him he wasn't just a convenient fuck." I scowled, letting my confusion and frustration seep into my voice. "If all he wanted was a piece of ass, he could've had it a lot sooner than he did. And he could've had it since—but he keeps pushing me away. I—I don't know what he wants. I'm pretty sure he doesn't either."

"Sounds like love to me," Trowa quipped.

"Oh, fuck you, Barton!" I snarled. "Don't even _go _there. I hardly know this guy—."

"But you like what you _do _know."

"He's arrogant and insufferable!" I ranted. "He judged me the first time he laid eyes on me all those years ago—wrote me off as street trash and called me a hooker—."

Trowa's eyes widened. "He's _that _cop? The one you told me about who was so hot you had dreams about him for weeks after you saw him? _Wet _dreams?"

"When I wasn't having nightmares about the warehouse fire, yeah," I admitted.

"Go figure," Trowa sighed. "Love at first sight. Who knew it existed?"

"It doesn't," I asserted. "It's just lust at first sight. For love, you need to know the person—know his likes an' dislikes—know what makes him tick—."

"I think _you _make him tick, love," Trowa teased. "He couldn't take his eyes off you tonight. I dunno if it's love—but he _wants _you like hell."

I gave a derisive snort. "He could _have _me," I pointed out. "Fuck, Trowa—he's gorgeous—not to mention he kisses like a freakin' God." I leaned against Trowa, who had his arms wrapped comfortingly around me. "That'd be easy to get over—well, maybe not easy, but doable—only he's smart, too—and when he smiles, it just takes your breath away. I'd give my eye teeth to get past that shell and get him to open up—to _talk _to me—to stop fighting an' just let me _in_—."

"Oh you _have _got it bad," murmured Trowa, his voice thick with pity.

I nodded, not bothering to keep trying to hide it from a man who knew me almost as well as I knew myself. "'S not fair, Tro'. Why'd it have to be _him_?"

"He's probably asking himself the same thing."

"Psh—yeah right," I scoffed. "Look—whatever it is—between us—it's just impossible." I shook my head. "Even if he felt something, he'd never admit it. Not in a million years. And sure as hell, not to _me_. Forget about it. I only meant to tell you what happened—not analyze the outcome, okay?"

"Okay, Shini. For now," he warned. "Right now you need sleep. You've been so stressed out for so long—. Let me just be here for you and watch your back so you can rest easy, hm?"

"That'd be—nice," I sighed, genuinely enjoying his warm, uncomplicated embrace. I guess Trowa had spoiled me—taught me to enjoy physical affection—rather than just sex. Maybe that's what hurt the most—that Yuy had sex with me, but wouldn't show even the slightest trace of simple affection.

Much as I hated to admit it—I think I wanted that from him. Hell, I _knew _I did. But I had no idea how to ask for it. All I knew how to ask for was sex. I knew a dozen ways to proposition a guy—but not a single one to just let him know I needed a hug and a shoulder to lean on.

"Shh," came Trowa's soothing whisper, as I slumped wearily against him. "Sleep, Shini—no more thinkin' tonight."

His gentle hand stroked my hair soothingly, and he settled back, pulling me against his chest to lie almost sprawled across him. I could feel the tension just seep out of me as I drifted off to sleep—finally.


	22. Waking Up

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter twenty-eight of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Twenty Two: Waking Up

I woke up feeling better than I had in ages, with Trowa's warm chest acting as my pillow. I couldn't resist sliding my hand across it, enjoying the familiar sensation.

"Shini—?" he murmured drowsily.

Yeah, he knew it was me even before his eyes opened. While both of us had entertained other lovers, we'd never spent the night with anyone else, until I paired up with Zechs. I kind of felt a pang of guilt, realizing how much Trowa had given up for me when he pushed me to accept Zechs' request for exclusivity.

Now that I'd had to sleep alone again, I was keenly aware of how much I'd missed the comfort of having a warm body to curl up against.

I reached up to kiss him awake, realizing I'd fallen asleep in my jeans. Damn! Didn't even get to feel his legs twined naked around mine.

I felt strangely cheated.

"Wakey wakey," I crooned, nuzzling him under the chin.

He groaned quietly, and then shifted underneath me. "Why're we wearing so many clothes?"

"I fell asleep," I told him. "You must've decided to suffer along with me."

I got a sleepy snort for my efforts. "Dozed off," he said, yawning widely. "Shit—where's the bathroom around here?"

"That would be the room I went catapulting out of to throw myself at you last night," I reminded him.

"Oh yeah." He pushed himself up on his elbows, quirking a small, intimate smile at me. "Love the way you look in the morning," he teased affectionately, reaching to ruffle my thoroughly unkempt hair.

"I love the way you _feel_," I responded, running a hand down to the bulge in his jeans.

He squirmed under my touch. "'F I didn't need to take a piss so bad, you wouldn't get away with that," he warned. "C'mon—lemme up."

"Spoilsport," I groused as he rolled away and got up.

He turned to fix me with a soft, almost sad look. "I'm not gonna spoil anything," he assured me. "Least of all your chance with the hot cop."

"Oh, God, Tro'. There's no _chance_," I insisted. "He'll never loosen up enough."

And suddenly he pounced, pinning me back down to the bed and straddling my legs, his face only inches from mine. "Y'want me?" he asked in a throaty voice that always brought goose bumps to my skin.

"Any time."

His eyes searched mine. "But would you be thinkin' of me while we fucked—or would your mind be—somewhere else?"

I gaped up at him, wondering how he could see things I hadn't even recognized in myself.

"Face it, love," he said with a smirk. "You're fixated on Yuy. And this time I don't even have to step aside, like I did for Zechs. That cop is so far under your skin, you couldn't help yourself. You couldn't stop wanting him if you tried."

"I don't _want_ to," I whispered back, hating to admit what I'd known since the log cabin; no matter who I was with, I'd be wanting Heero.

Wasn't there some way to erase shit like that from a memory? To make me forget how good Heero had felt? God—he'd fuckin' ruined me for anyone else, hadn't he?

"Sorry," shrugged my ex-lover. "You can't help what you want—or _who_."

I scowled, twisting out from under Trowa and stumbling out of bed. "I want coffee," I grumbled, grabbing my discarded shirt off the floor and throwing it on without buttoning it. "See you downstairs."

I'd made coffee and was pouring my first cup before Trowa joined me in the kitchen, having apparently taken a quick shower—without inviting me.

I hopped up on the counter and pouted, making him get his own coffee, just because he'd deprived me of the feel of his slick, wet skin under my hands.

He took it with his usual good humor, teasing me about how we'd have ended up missing breakfast all together and arriving downstairs in time for lunch if we were lucky.

And of course I forgave him as soon as he came to stand between my legs and run his soothing hands up my thighs while we talked about something _other _than my fucked-up feelings for Yuy.

We talked about _his _feelings for a change; more specifically, his attraction to my pretty blue-eyed lawyer. Yeah, it was kind of fun to turn the tables on him and poke at his insecurities and reluctant attractions.

Yuy came in as we were getting to the heart of the matter. As hot a guy as Trowa was, he was also painfully insecure at times. He'd had his heart broken once, by a guy he'd been really serious about. And he was reluctant to trust anyone again. I think that was part of why we kept our relationship casual and based on friendship. If we'd let it get "serious," and one of us had a change of heart, we'd have stood to lose so much.

Even when I'd taken a chance on Zechs, I'd known that Trowa would be there to catch me if it went bad. And likewise, when he found someone that made him want to risk love again, I planned to be there for him. Whether I had to prod him into taking action, or pick up the pieces if he got shot down, I'd be there.

Or would I?

Here I was prodding him into starting something with Quatre, when I was about to be dragged off into hiding forever. And then, if the lawyer dumped him—where would he be?

It wasn't easy to push Trowa into taking a chance I wasn't sure I could back him up on—but I'd seen a spark in Quatre's eyes that made me think maybe it wasn't too big of a risk. At least, it sure looked like there was a whole lot of mutual attraction going on there.

And when Yuy threw in his endorsement, I felt a surge of relief; it reassured me that the gleam in Quatre's eyes hadn't been placed there by my imagination.

"Is that what you're looking for? Because I don't think Winner's a 'quick roll in the sack' kind of guy."

I darted a narrow look at Yuy when he blurted that out, reflecting that he probably thought I was that kind of guy—the prick.

"That's not what I want!" Trowa asserted. "I could get that from any guy on the street, Yuy."

"You could get that from _me_," I pointed out with a chuckle.

And he could, too. I'd never turn him down.

"I know, Shini." He dropped a quick kiss on the corner of my mouth and went back to his discussion with Yuy.

And of course, I picked just the wrong thing to say. "You could always try pointing a gun at him."

The minute the words left my mouth, and Trowa made his wisecrack about it being more up _my_ alley, I knew I'd screwed up.

"Jesus fuckin Christ. You _told _him? Why not just tell Chang while you're at it?"

_Why not, indeed?_

_I _wasn't the one denying my sexuality. And did Yuy not realize Trowa and I shared _all _our deep, dark secrets? For fuck's sake—he was my best friend! Of course I told him.

I couldn't stand the anger and embarrassment on Heero's face. I mean, shit. Was it _that _goddamned horrifying to him that Trowa knew we'd had sex? I thought he'd admitted he enjoyed it. So why was it such a big deal that one other person knew?

Unless he'd decided he regretted it after all—?

I got the hell out of the kitchen before my expression could reveal how much it stung that he felt like our "moment" was just a dirty little secret he had to keep. I'd been hoarding the memory like a treasure, while he'd been looking for a rug to sweep it under, damn him!

Trowa joined me out on the deck a little while later, where I was leaning against the railing taking deep breaths and trying not to let on how upset I was.

It felt great when he slipped an arm around me and pulled me up against him, and I made it a point to snuggle into the embrace.

"Don't give up, Shini," he whispered gently. "I think you were right. I think he really cares. He's just scared."

"So 'm I," I whispered back. "I'm scared that I'll never feel this way about anyone else."

"I think he is, too." Trowa's arm tightened reassuringly. "And I think he's never felt this way before, either. It's all new to him. At least you had Zechs—and me. You've got something to compare with what you're feeling now. He doesn't."

"He doesn't have _feelings_," I insisted.

"Aw, yes he does," came the almost breathless answer. "God, Shini—he's so fuckin' confused and scared it's kind of—sweet."

I pulled away to give Trowa a searching, skeptical look. "What did he say to you after I left?"

"He said a lot, without coming right out and saying it," came the cryptic response. "But what it boils down to is that he does feel _something _for you—beyond just duty. And I think he's fighting it because he knows you're going into relocation." He smirked and tugged me close again. "He's afraid of letting you get close, only to have to give you up, love."

"Yeah, but if this is all we've got—," I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning into the embrace. "Fuck it, Tro', I don't want to waste what little time we have. An' I'm not sayin' I expect him to come out of the closet an' fuck me in front of his partner. I just want a chance to _know _him…to let him know _me_."

"Don't worry," he soothed. "He'll figure it out before long. He's getting there. And maybe I gave him something to think about."

"What did you say to him?"

He shook his head. "That's between him and me—but you just keep being _you_—and I'll keep trying to make him face up to his feelings, okay?"

"Gonna try to fix me up with the cop, while I fix you up with my lawyer?" I joked.

"This isn't about me."

"Wanna bet?"

Oh yeah. Trowa might be all focused on trying to make Heero admit his feelings for me; but I was thinking of the warm light in Trowa's eyes when he mentioned Quatre. I wanted to give him something back for all that he'd done for me. And if I could facilitate things between him and the hot blonde lawyer, well, that'd be a start.


	23. Matchmaking

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter twenty-eight of Witness. Sorry for the lapse between postings; life has been strenuous lately.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Twenty Three: Matchmaking

Quatre showed up only moments after Trowa had settled me down and convinced me my pathetic crush on Heero might not be futile. And his arrival gave me something to focus on other than the emotional roller coaster I'd been riding lately.

"Hey, counselor, sleep well?" I asked cheerily, knowing Trowa would be shy and tongue-tied the moment they made eye contact.

"Like a baby," Quatre grinned back. "I don't know if that's because of the bed, though, or the long ride up here." He shook his head. "Your motorcycle is kind of hard on the rear end, Duo."

"It's not a touring bike," I shrugged. "It's for looking cool and driving fast around town." I gave him a teasing leer. "Sex on wheels."

Quatre's glance slid towards Trowa, and he blushed rosily. "Um, yeah, well…what's on the agenda for today? Heero said he'd be out checking security all morning, while Wufei sleeps; so it looks like the rest of us have the place to ourselves."

I grabbed Trowa's hand and dragged him towards the hot tub. "Check this out, Tro'! Not 'sex on wheels,' but 'sex on the deck.'"

Trowa smirked, reaching to run his fingers through the water. "Aw, man—that's awesome," he agreed.

"We can take a dip this afternoon if you like," Quatre offered. "Once the sun's past the roof and the deck is in the shade, it's wonderful to soak in the tub. And there are spare suits in the linen closet, and plenty of robes and towels."

I smirked indulgently. "Hell, Quat—I didn't bother with a suit the other day."

His eyes widened, and slid almost reluctantly down my body, as if he was picturing what I'd looked like nude. I sidled closer. "Be daring!" I challenged. "Skinny dip with Tro' an' me."

"Chang would have apoplexy," he pointed out.

"Let him. A prude like that deserves it," I told him dismissively. "Besides, he owes me."

Quatre raised a knowing eyebrow. "You mean because of his tasteless joke?"

I jerked my eyes up to Quat's face, realizing either Chang or Yuy had blabbed to him about the "child molester" comment. "Drop it," I said flatly.

I felt Trowa's warmth behind me, and heard his quiet voice over my shoulder. "Drop what?"

"Apparently Chang made a bad joke about child molestation—."

Quatre didn't even have the sentence out before Trowa was headed towards the door—intent on beating Chang to a bloody pulp.

"Shit!" I blurted, dashing past him to throw myself in front of the sliders. "Trowa, _no_!" I snapped.

He looked at me with pure anguish in the deep green eyes. "Shini—."

"I'm okay!" I assured him. "Th' fucker apologized, all right? An' that was after I decked him and Yuy had to pull me off."

Some of the concern left his eyes and he let one corner of his mouth lift in a near-smile. "You decked him?"

"Uh-huh." I nodded vehemently. "Just launched myself right off the window seat and flattened him." And if I said that a little proudly, well, I think I was entitled. _How _many black belts did the guy have? And he was brought down by a scruffy street punk like me? Now _that _was justice!

Quatre had come up behind Trowa, and put a cautious hand on his arm. "It sounds like Chang's been punished enough, Trowa," he said quietly. "Yuy gave him hell about it last night, too. And I wasn't exactly pleasant."

"Yuy?" Trowa asked, a knowing look in his eyes. "Ah well—maybe I should let _him_ defend your honor from now on, hm?"

Quatre glanced between us—undoubtedly reading all kinds of things between the lines. "Is there something I should know?"

I glared at Trowa, but directed my answer at Quatre. "Nothing."

"Nothing except that your bodyguard did a little more than just guard it," Trowa piped up.

I clapped a hand over his mouth, staring him down. "Shut the _fuck _up!" The last thing I needed was for a lawyer to know what had happened between Yuy and me. If Quatre felt compelled to say something to the police Captain about it—. I mean, shit. I didn't want to cost Heero his job.

"Duo," Quatre said in a softly chiding tone. "First off, it's obvious to anyone with half a brain that Yuy's got a soft spot for you. And secondly, whatever might have happened—between you—_stays _between you. I'd never interfere, or tell anyone without your permission." He gave one of those warm, soothing smiles of his. "I might even think it's a good thing—if it makes you happy."

I blinked, looking at him rather perplexedly. "You—wouldn't get him in trouble with his boss? I mean, _if _anything were to—if _he _were to—. You mean you'd be okay with it?"

He nodded, apparently understanding my half-finished thoughts. "You really like him, don't you?"

Trowa snorted aloud at that, grinning unrepentantly. "Understatement of the year!" he blurted.

"Tro'!" I punched his arm in a scolding gesture. "You asshole! Shut up!"

Quatre was laughing by then—a warm, rich, totally wonderful laugh. "Doesn't matter what Trowa says; I can read you like a book, Duo."

"So what?" I grumbled, heading back towards the hot tub again. "Big deal. So I've got it bad for the really hot detective. Who wouldn't?"

"I don't," Trowa said helpfully.

"Me neither," Quatre agreed, smirking at my ex-lover conspiratorially.

"I hate you both," I muttered. Then, in order to distract them from their discussion of my love life—or potential love life—or whatever it was—I asked what they'd brought in the way of groceries, and offered to make a really awesome dinner for us all.

It worked pretty well, too. We raided the kitchen for supplies, planning our nice supper for later; and then we dug out some cheese and crackers and Quatre made a foray into the wine cellar to bring up some vintage stuff for an impromptu party on the deck.

Hell, it was the best day I'd had since leaving the hospital—bar none. I wasn't dodging bullets, sniping with anal cops, or sulking in my room.

Instead I had my best friend at my side, and the hot blonde lawyer for eye candy. I got to tell stories about the adventures we'd had so far—the sunrise and the llama incident—even the bit about Rhonda and how much it ticked off my two babysitters when I turned on the charm.

And even while I was chatting away about the journey, I was noticing the way Quatre was sliding longing glances towards Trowa, and how my former lover was shyly returning them.

Their timid flirtation gave me something to focus on besides my own obsession with Yuy, and the steaming hot tub in the corner looked like the perfect way to facilitate their hookup.

But first—how to get Quatre out of those pesky clothes—?

I had a few ideas, but my self-appointed mission had to wait a bit, as Yuy returned from his patrol. He looked a bit surprised at the sight of us lounging around the table, and then shocked the hell out of me by bantering with Quatre about my sentimentality over the bear and her cubs.

And then he said I was gorgeous.

I couldn't believe it. "You think I'm gorgeous?"

"C'mon, Maxwell. You aren't stupid. You know how you look."

Well yeah, I did. I just never expected him to admit it. And I couldn't help the wistful look I let follow him as he went back inside the house.

Trowa smirked knowingly. "Told ya, Shini. He wants you—badly."

"I'd have to agree," Quatre said quickly. "And from the expression on your face, you want him, too."

"That's not the point," I said with a scowl. "He's a cop. And he's made it pretty clear he thinks I'm street trash."

"I don't think so," Quatre mused. "Despite what he says, I think he genuinely cares about you. I mean, just in the short time we've been here, I can see changes in him. He's not as detached as he'd like everyone to believe."

"Doesn't matter," I said sulkily.

Trowa sighed deeply, concern in his green eyes. He knew what the problem was; I wasn't satisfied knowing Heero was physically attracted to me. I wanted more from him. And so far, it didn't look like I'd ever get it.

I shoved away from the table, wanting to think about something other than my unrequited feelings for a stone-cold cop. "Hey, Quat—how about I give you a little demo? Stripping 101. And then after supper, you, me an' Tro' can have a little contest—a 'strip-off'—to see who's the biggest turn-on for the others."

If _that _didn't get the two of them over their shyness, nothing would.

My lawyer blushed beautifully, swigged down the remainder of the wine in his glass, and gave a rather resigned nod of his head. "Go ahead an' show me how it's done," he suggested.

So I did.


	24. Hot Tubs

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters twenty-nine and thirty of Witness. And since my ex-to-be is off with a new fling, I find myself with more time to write again...at least, now that I picked up the pieces and pulled myself back together. I will try to keep the momentum going, and maybe get to an "Academy" update as well. Sorry for the delay and thanks for your patience.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Twenty Four: Hot Tubs

Yo, Diary:

I don't know why Heero has to be such an ass. I mean, he went from being half-decent, to being a total fucking jerk in, like, two-point-five seconds flat.

First he was flirting with me in the kitchen—I almost got a kiss out of him, and I _will _bitch Trowa out for interrupting that!

Then, I heard him telling Trowa he was only interested in my value as a witness. I was a fucking bargaining chip towards a big job promotion for him. If he got me to the trial alive, and I helped them convict Khushrenada, it'd be a huge feather in his career cap, so to speak.

The asshole.

I don't know what to think. Am I really nothing but a bargaining chip to him? Did all of his flirting and hinting at more than a passing attraction mean nothing? Is he just concerned about the damage it might do to his career if word got out that he'd fucked a witness?

I have got to stop doing this to myself—brooding over something I can never have. I need to focus on something other than the irresistible pull of Heero Yuy's gorgeous body.

And what better way to do that than to lounge in a hot tub naked with two sexy-as-hell guys?

Yep.

I finally got Quatre out of his clothes and into the hot tub. Want my recipe for seduction? Well, here goes…

First, we had a truly delicious dinner, complete with wine, salmon, corn and a variety of vegetables our benefactor had brought along. That got everyone into a nice, comfortable, relaxed mood.

Well, everyone except Chang, who didn't care for my suggestive comments to Trowa.

And Yuy, who seemed to feel it necessary to reprimand me for embarrassing 'Fei. Asshole. Yeah, he was still deep on my shit list.

Anyhow, to get back to the fun stuff…

When our babysitters finally left, Tro', Quat and I had the deck all to ourselves. The evening light was fading, and stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. It was the perfect romantic setting.

Ah—this is where you tell me to get lost so the puppy-eyed pair could hook up? No way in Hell.

I knew that Trowa was just insecure enough to hold back from making a move on a successful, uptown guy like Quatre. And I was afraid that the sharp-as-nails lawyer didn't know how to proceed outside the courtroom; he seemed to be timid when it came to matters of the heart.

So I stuck around…and enjoyed the show.

"So, Kitty-Quat," I purred, pushing up from my comfy seat on the lounge chair and slinking over to put a hand on his shoulder. "It's time for your first lesson in stripping."

He looked up, his face flushed from the wine he'd been imbibing freely all evening. (And yes, I'd made sure to top off his glass every chance I got.) "Uh—. But—. D-Duo, I'm not sure—."

"C'mon…be daring!" I urged, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet. "Live a little."

"Shini—," Trowa cautioned, looking simultaneously worried that I was embarrassing the inhibited lawyer, and hopeful that maybe he'd get to see quite a bit _more _of the inhibited lawyer.

I darted him a quick glare, and then a cheeky wink. "Don't want me to teach him? Then _you _do it."

Trowa's fingers twitched as if he could feel Quatre's skin under them. "Duo—when I taught you, we'd already—I mean—." He faltered, unable to say out loud that we'd been sleeping together for quite a while before he taught me to strip. It's one thing to show a lover how to peel out of skin-tight clothes, and quite another to show someone you've yet to see naked.

Of course, once I got over my body shyness, I was a lot more forceful than Tro' about getting what I wanted. Case in point, he'd never have pulled a gun on a man to make him submit to a blow job.

I was a lot wilder than Trowa in some ways. I had less regard for my health and well-being. I think it was partly because of my life as a street kid—seemed like luck was the only thing that'd kept me alive so far; and therefore if luck took me out, it was just evening the score.

Not that I wanted to die. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed living very, very much—and even moreso since getting off the streets for good.

But I was willing to push the boundaries of decency and safety just a little further than my best friend. And if I offended Quatre, it was no big deal. I wasn't the one who had the hots for him—though I'll admit those wide blue eyes were very alluring.

Maybe it was the eyes that made Trowa get a worried frown line down his brow. He knew how into blue eyes I was. If he thought my frustration with Yuy was building to a boiling point, maybe he'd start to wonder how much seriousness there was beneath my joking with Quatre.

I tugged Quatre over to the music player we'd set up earlier, and fanned out my cd's. "You want a heavy beat—or slow and sensuous?" I asked him.

"Uh—." His glance sought Trowa's, and my chicken-shit buddy blushed and looked down at his feet. "N-not like what you two used the other night," he stammered. "Something a little—slower maybe?"

"You got it," I purred, shuffling through to find a song with a slow enough tempo to ease Quatre into the mood. I had 'em all—Rocky Mountain Way, by Joe Walsh, Slow Ride, by Foghat—anything with a slow, rhythmic beat. I settled on the former, since it's got a nice, hip-rocking lilt to it and it's a pretty long song. I popped it into the boom box and hit the play button. "Okay, Kitten—here we go."

"K-kitten?"

"Well if Tro' an' me are The Big Cats, you need a stage name, too. And—." Here I ran a caressing hand across his cheek and down his chest. "I'll bet you purr like a kitten when someone strokes you just right."

Quatre gulped and turned an even brighter shade of red.

I never knew you could embarrass a lawyer. I guess I thought they didn't have feelings. But I had to know if Quat did, before I was gonna trust him with my buddy's heart, y'know?

Trowa'd been loved and left once before, by a guy who found out what he did for work and couldn't handle it. I wasn't taking any chances.

"Here kitty kitty," I crooned, taking both of Quatre's hands and tugging him into the center of the deck. "Rock your hips like this—side to side—nice an' slow. Close your eyes and tilt your head back a little and just let the music move you."

Hey, for a guy who acted a bit prudish, Quatre had a really awesome sense of rhythm. He had no trouble at all loosening up and moving with the beat of the music, and by the time I had him running his hands down his chest and teasing at his buttons, I thought he was more of a natural at stripping than I'd been.

Didn't take much effort after that. Quat and I ended up practically naked in no time, and when I dragged him towards the hot tub, he wasted no time in dropping that last article of clothing along the way.

The three of us ended up soaking in the steamy water, just talking—about how Quatre felt about stripping, how Trowa had taught me in the first place—and in between the silly talk and banter, the lawyer let slip some details about himself. He was from a huge family, with lots of sisters, but no brothers. He'd grown up in a very straight-laced household—but by the time he was bound for law school, he'd informed them that he was gay and to stop trying to fix him up with eligible women.

A brave guy, I couldn't help but think.

As a result of his declaration of independence, he ended up paying his own way through college. Though most of his sisters were supportive of his lifestyle, his father had cut him off without a cent. Bastard.

But Quatre had held his ground and after graduation, he and his father more or less reconciled, shortly before the old man passed away. I was glad for that. It would've sucked if he'd dropped dead before they at least patched things up.

At any rate, Trowa and I learned more about the hot blonde lawyer, and in turn shared details of our lives—at least those that weren't already common knowledge.

And I teased the shit out of Quat, until I had him so hot and bothered it was a wonder he didn't jump both Trowa and me right there in the water. I could tell it was beginning to irk Trowa, too—and at that point, when I'd sidled around to straddle Quat's naked lap (and yeah, parts of him were very interested in the hot bodies sharing the tub)—I leaned in and whispered "Tro' wants you, Kitten—real bad. I think he's even starting to love you. You break his heart, and I'll rip yours out, got it?"

He gave me a startled look, and then turned a speculative one Trowa's way, and I hastily made my exit, to a teasing tug on my braid from my former dance partner, and the knowledge that Quatre was already in motion towards him.

Yep. I set it all up, and all they had to do was lock lips. I'd even waited until I was pretty sure most of the alcohol haze had passed; I didn't want either of them thinking they'd only acted in a moment of drunken lust.

I made my way inside, feeling both proud of my matchmaking abilities, and a bit put out that I was headed for bed alone as a result. Y'know—damned if ya do, damned if ya don't.

And it sure looked like I was damned. I mean, Yuy started in on me, claiming I'd made a play for Quatre—and then I realized his surveillance showed everything that had gone on out on that deck. Not that I was ashamed or anything—but he bitched me out about Quat, and then when I told him _he _was what I wanted, he ended up walking out on me. Again.

I dunno. Maybe I'm losing my touch. Used to be I could have any guy I wanted. I guess the trouble is, there's only one I want now; the one I can't have.

Of course, dozing off with thoughts like those, it was no wonder I had the mother of all nightmares. Not that I can remember many of the details...just the feelings left behind...pain, terror, panic...as if everything I feared the most was clawing at me...dragging me towards a horrible fate.

I woke up screaming, of course, and then lights came on, and I heard the pounding of feet, and then warm arms went around me and Trowa's soothing voice was whispering reassurances in my ear.

Oh, God! Trowa. Thank God for him.

When I realized we were the subject of three puzzled and curious gazes, I just buried my face against him and begged him to make them go away, which he did.

I've never known how he does it, but Trowa can soothe away my nightmares like no one I've ever known. Even Zechs couldn't get me to fall back to sleep after I had one; I usually ended up in his kitchen baking brownies or something the rest of the night, and sipping whatever fancy-assed booze he had on hand.

He'd caught me at it once, and I'd just flat-out told him that after a patented Maxwell Screaming Nightmare, I needed space and something to occupy my hands. It seemed to upset him that he couldn't calm my fears and help me to get back to sleep, but that's just the way it was.

Trowa, on the other hand, could somehow hold me tight enough and say just the right things to get me grounded in the present again. And then he'd talk.

Yep. Good old "man of few words" Trowa Barton could talk my ear off, in a soft, calming tone that just relaxed the shit out of me. He'd babble on about the circus--maybe a story about a lion cub he had to bottle feed, or the time an ostrich escaped and he had to chase it around town for hours. Didn't really matter what he said; there was just something about the matter-of-fact tone he used and the husky sound of his voice; it always did the trick for me.

And it worked that night at the lake house, too. I was back asleep before I knew it, and every time a nightmare nipped at the edges of my awareness, Trowa's warm embrace and whispered reassurances would send it packing.

Have I mentioned how much I love the guy? And how much I owe him?


	25. Meltdown

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters thirty-one and thirty-two of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Twenty Five: Meltdown

Where to begin?

So much has happened in such a short time, that it's kind of hard to summarize. Guess I'll have to just sort of run through it all.

First off, I got left with Chang the Babysitter. And while, on the surface, that might appear to be a bad thing, it was not total Hell. (Well, until the end, and I'll get to that soon enough.)

Apparently Quatre and Trowa wanted to take Heero sightseeing on the lake or something, and he decided I couldn't tag along for "safety reasons." What a load of crap! After all we'd been through, and how I'd proven I could hike with the best of 'em, you'd think the guy would give me credit.

But no—I got left behind.

Oh, he was nice about it—so nice, in fact, that I accused him of being an alien or something. And then I tormented him a bit by flirting with Trowa. He might not want to fuck me again, but it was pretty obvious he didn't want anyone else doing it either.

And what's up with that? I mean, shit—like I'd let a body like this go to waste? Not likely.

Anyhow, back to the whole Day with Wuffers…

I got the tight-ass to take his shirt off. Yep. And let his hair down, too. Apparently the Maxwell Charm works on straight guys, too. Or Chang's closer to bi than he'd ever want to let on.

At any rate, I got to sketch that gorgeous, silky hair and those amazing shoulders and biceps. Fuck—it made the whole day worthwhile, though it also made me kind of horny. Not for Chang! Shit—never! He's drool-worthy, but untouchable.

But I'd have risked life and limb and thrown myself at Heero if he'd shown up right about then.

Instead, Chang and I moved on to meditation. And it wasn't totally heinous. He made me sit in a screwy position—but I'm limber, and so it was pretty easy.

And I needed a mantra and a focus point. I settled for imagining the blue of Heero's eyes as a deep lake between towering mountains. Yeah, that's a soothing image.

The thing about Heero's eyes is that they just about shine with competence and determination. You can't help but feel safe when he's all focused on protecting you. And like I'd said before, he could guard _my _body any time!

I don't know why Heero's eyes make me feel safe and like everything will somehow be okay—but they do. Go figure.

After the meditation, I was feeling pretty mellow, truth be told. Not as mellow as a joint might've made me—but close. So—points for Chang.

Then he went to get us something to snack on, and I flicked on the television for a bit of afternoon diversion. And the whole world went to shit…

//_…an explosion in downtown Sanc…taking out several buildings, most of which were empty warehouses, but…//_

Fuck! I knew before the camera had panned onto the ruins that I was looking at the Maxwell Church Orphanage.

And the world went white and silent, and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart as I realized Treize Khushrenda killed dozens of innocent freakin' kids to get to me!

I guess I kind of zoned out for a bit. I kind of remember screaming and yelling and throwing things around the kitchen. Chang started out trying to settle me down, without much success, and when he realized how futile it was, he must've called the others.

Next thing I knew, he got me in some kind of lock hold, pinning my arms at my sides and whispering over and over that it'd be okay—that Heero was on his way back.

Didn't occur to me at the time to wonder how he knew that was who I wanted to see. And for the life of me, I don't know why it was the thought of Heero's return that calmed me down enough to stop throwing a fit and relax into Wufei's tight embrace.

He was behind me, his arms wrapped around my chest, and his face pressed almost cheek to cheek with mine.

"Breathe, Duo. Slowly. In and out."

I remember him repeating that in a slow, steady rhythm, just like in our earlier meditation session. It eventually got me drawing deep, shuddering breaths, though I know I was shaking like a leaf in his grasp.

Then I saw the boat pulling up to the dock, and broke away without another thought, dashing down the hill and into the first pair of arms I met.

Of course, it was Trowa. I wanted to throw myself into Heero's arms, but I didn't dare—especially not with Chang watching. But I think maybe, when Trowa ran to meet me and let me slam into him at full speed to cling sobbing against his warm, solid chest, I saw a flicker of what might have been jealousy cross Heero's face. I didn't have time to dwell on it right then.

"Dead—they're all dead!"

Yeah, I was hysterical—right up until Quat's hand cracked me in the face. And then he told me he'd moved the orphans—hidden them away at one of his family-run summer camps.

I could've fuckin' kissed the guy. But I settled for a hug and some heartfelt thanks—and then meekly let Trowa escort me back to the house and help me dull the hysteria with a more than substantial dose of alcohol.

Hey—you'd have drunk yourself into oblivion too at that point.

The evening was a blur. I know they fed me. And we talked about our plans—how we had to leave the lake house. I started to get a little riled that it seemed like Yuy and the others had made plans without my input; it reminded me of Zechs' tendency to take control.

But when we talked about Catherine and involving her—I realized just how many lives my stupidity had affected, and I felt like shit for ever hooking up with someone like Zechs. I should've known better. I knew he was a drug lord—Khushrenada's right hand man—it was common knowledge on the streets, and I just ignored that fact when I realized I had a chance with a hot, take-charge guy like Zechs Merquise.

Fuck, I wanted Treize dead. The bastard killed Zechs, and now he was going after everyone else important to me. Did he really think that'd bring me out of hiding? That I'd risk meeting up with him? That I was stupid enough to believe he wanted anything from me other than my death?

Asshole.

Y'know—I downplayed the time he'd sent flowers to my dressing room. Zechs was the one who flew off the handle at that little trespass. In all honesty, I didn't know what he'd done to make Treize back off—I'd always heard that Khushrenada got whatever he wanted. And at some point, he'd wanted _me_.

Guess that was old news now. I mean—yeah, he still wanted me. Dead.

And what scared me the most was that he seemed to know how to yank my chain. He knew that hurting the kids from the orphanage was a sure way to draw me out. Maybe he thought I'd offer to trade myself in return for the safety of my friends—or maybe he just wanted to make me angry enough to do something stupid like try to confront him.

Either way, he was close to getting what he wanted. And yeah, I might've caved to Khushrenada's heavy-handed tactics, if not for both Heero and Wufei.

Wufei got me through the first horrible moments after I found out about the orphanage. And Heero—well, he got me through the rest.

That's not to say Trowa didn't deserve a hefty bit of credit for dosing me liberally with alcohol and talking me down. And Quat—well, shit—I owed him the lives of all the kids as well as Father Maxwell and Sister Helen.

But what stands out in my mind about that night is the way Heero acted from the moment he got off that boat.

First off, I could tell he wanted to offer some sort of comfort, though he held back in front of his partner. But that was okay, since I was still digesting the morning's change in his attitude.

Then later, during and after supper, I caught him watching me with concern in those deep blue eyes, and it warmed me more than I cared to admit.

When Tro' and Quat left for their romantic lakeside rendezvous, I was more than willing to meet Heero halfway, and made my way down to the hot tub to take a stab at smoothing things over from our rocky start that morning.

It went better than I dared hope, when he went so far as to hold my hand. If Chang hadn't interrupted, who knows? I might've gotten my own dose of sex in the hot tub.

'S okay though—'cause I got it later.

In the grip of the most horrific nightmare I'd ever had—a sickening vision of Heero taking Zechs' place in that penthouse, and Khushrenada taunting me before killing him—I woke to find myself in Heero's arms once again.

Right where I wanted to be.

I clung to him, desperate for his touch—hungry to taste him and feel the heat of his passion again—to have him prove he was alive by fucking me through the mattress.

The bastard made me practically beg for it, though. He balked and I caved, trying to let him know that he wasn't just a warm body to hold for a night—that it was him, and only him I wanted.

I thought he'd pull back again—fend me off yet another time. I think I might've gone crazy if he did.

But he finally surrendered to his desires, and I sank back to the bed expecting a repeat of our first time—hot and wild and explosive.

Instead, he turned the tables on me by being the most gentle and thorough lover I'd ever known—bar none. I almost couldn't believe it was the same guy who'd fucked me through the floor less than a week earlier…the same one who'd threatened to shoot me on more than one occasion.

He was so very—tender—it just took my breath away every bit as much as his unbridled passion had.

I wasn't sure what to do.

Yeah, me. The one who's always been sure of himself—always known what he wanted when it came to sex. I was just—lost.

His kisses were gentle, but deep and thorough—and every touch light as a feather, but enough to send fire tracking in its wake.

I tried to find words for it—but was pretty much relegated to gasps and moans—maybe even a whimper or two.

He touched, and stroked, and teased until I was close to screaming in frustration, and then he feathered soft kisses over my face as he pushed into me—the steady throb of his cock matching the heartbeat I could feel when my lips touched his chest, and reassuring me that he was real, and alive, and so deep inside me I knew I'd never be able to live without him again.

"Alive…"

Yeah, I knew for sure he was alive when he brought me over the edge, spilling myself all over his hand and my stomach, only to feel the strong pulse of his release deep inside me, even through the condom.

_Aw, fuck._

I couldn't even try to call what passed between us that night lust. It was passion—definitely; I could feel the heat down to my core. It was reassurance; soothing away my fears. And it was—something intangible—some feeling of "rightness" I couldn't begin to describe.

If I hadn't been so exhausted and drained, I might have lain awake the rest of the night obsessing over it. But he'd taken so long building up to our climaxes that I had no energy left to worry about the feelings behind his actions or mine. I just let myself sink into oblivion, reassured that he was safe and alive in my bed.

It wasn't until the next morning when I woke up alone, feeling the familiar dull ache in my ass, that I panicked—. I was in love with a cop.

There. I said it. Admitted it to myself. I loved Heero Yuy.

But, shit. What did _he _feel about all this? He'd said he didn't do "casual." But by the same token, we'd talked about my going into relocation and how all we could have was the here and now.

So was he just taking what I offered? Having one of those "moments" I'd so glibly talked about? Did he expect me to be able to say goodbye when this was over and go on my way without him?

Jesus Christ, I was in deep.


	26. In Deep

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter thirty four of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Twenty Six: In Deep

Dear Diary:

So…the first thing I usually do when I'm confused or scared (yes, I'll admit to occasionally being scared—get over it!) is run to Trowa. As I said before, he's got an amazing ability when it comes to reassuring and calming me down. And he's a truly great listener.

I had to slip down those stairs quietly, not wanting to see 'Ro before I had a chance to pick Tro's brain and figure out what to do and how to act.

I mean, shit—I woke up alone, which is usually a bad, bad sign on a "morning after." Granted, Heero probably had cop stuff to do; but he might've at least given me a quick kiss or hug, or _something _to let me know he wasn't going to pretend last night never happened.

I guess that's what I was really afraid of—that he'd push me away again. Hey, he'd done it before. There was definitely a precedent set!

I hoped that the tenderness he'd shown the night before wasn't just a passing thing. It was so different from our first time. I wasn't sure which lover was the real Heero Yuy—the wild, lustful one, or the passionate, caring one. I was kinda hoping for a combination of the two, if ya know what I mean…

"We need to talk, Tro'. I'm in seriously deep shit!" I blurted, interrupting a really hot kiss between him and his sexy blonde boyfriend. (Hey, they'd better be boyfriends after christening the hot tub the way they had!)

Trowa just looked at me with amusement in those deep green eyes. "You mean 'love' don't you?"

"Agh! No! Yes! I mean, I don't know!" I tugged him away from Quatre, lowering my voice to a harsh whisper. "I _can't_ be."

"Whyever not?" he said with aggravating calmness.

"He's a cop," I pointed out.

"Nobody's perfect."

"And I haven't gotten over Zechs yet."

"A new relationship might help with that."

"Everyone I love dies, Tro'!" I tried in desperation.

Now my friend just looked offended. "I'm still alive," he pointed out. "Does that mean you don't love me?"

I glared. "You know better. But it's not the same—."

Trowa smirked at Quatre, who was remaining singularly silent and neutral during our frantic conversation. "Wanna pour Duo a cup of coffee? I don't think he's fully awake yet."

Quatre moved over to the coffee machine to comply, and I tugged at Trowa's sleeve. "I really need to talk to you alone," I said quietly. Then I raised my voice a bit, and gave Quat an apologetic smile. "No offense, counselor, but I gotta borrow your boyfriend for a few minutes."

"No offense taken," he said with a tiny smile, handing me a steaming mug of coffee.

I grabbed it and started hauling Trowa towards the door.

"What the fuck, Shini?" he hissed. "When I looked in your door last night, you looked like you were in Heaven. What went wrong?"

"I woke up alone, for starters," I grumbled.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, letting me drag him along. "Wanna talk out on the deck?"

I shook my head. "Not far enough. You know how good Yuy is at eavesdropping." I looked out the window at the gleaming blue lake. "The dock!" I decided. "C'mon, Tro'."

"Okay, love," he relented, pausing at the doorway to the living room and giving Quat an apologetic shrug. "Be right back?"

"Take your time," suggested the lawyer.

We made record time passing through that room, and I kept from making direct eye contact with Heero as I called out that we'd be down by the lake.

Once Trowa got with the program and matched his pace to mine, we made our way to the little wooden dock and walked out to the end, where I could sit and dangle my feet in the chilly blue water.

"All right," Trowa said, his tone warm and soothing as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up against him. "Tell me all about it."

So, I did. I told him about the nightmare, and waking up with Heero there, and how very tender and caring he'd been. I told him the way I felt in Heero's arms wasn't like anything I'd ever felt before—that I was afraid it was something I couldn't live without, now that I'd experienced it. And I even confessed to the fear that if I actually let myself fall in love with Heero, something awful would happen to him…like Zechs and like Solo.

"I think it's too late for that," Trowa told me, shaking his head. "I think you're already gone, Shini. You can't control your feelings, you know. They are what they are."

"But everyone I love—."

"We've been over that," he said firmly. "Not everyone you love dies. It happened twice. And yeah, it was awful, and you got hurt. But you still have me, and the kids at the orphanage, and other people you care about. And we're alive and well. Don't sell Heero short. He's very capable—very good at staying alive."

"Not if I say I love him—."

Those green eyes pinned me with a knowing look. "Not saying it, doesn't make it go away."

"And what if he doesn't feel the same?" I pointed out, using a new line of logic. Or maybe I was looking for another out—who knows?

"I think he does."

"But if not—."

"What's the worst he could do? Go back to being the stone-cold cop?"

"Well—yeah."

He shook his head. "I don't think that will happen, love. And even if he tries to act that way, you know he feels _something_. He proved that last night, didn't he?"

He had a point, and so I nodded.

"At the very least, you know he's attracted to you, and that he cares. Even if that's all it is, it's a start."

"And what about when I go into relocation?" I moaned, picturing a long, miserable life in which I'd never see those deep blue eyes again.

"One step at a time," Trowa said soothingly. "Aren't you the king of 'living in the moment?' Well, this would be a very good time for that. Just take each day as it comes. Enjoy Yuy's company while you can. You know he'll break down again and let you close; he's done it twice already." He tightened his grip around my shoulder. "You could be in protective custody for a long time, Shini. A lot could happen. Don't count on having to go into relocation until it happens."

"Okay," I sighed, giving up the fight.

I mean, shit. No matter how much I fought it, I was already in over my head when it came to Heero. I already felt more than I wanted to—more than I dared admit—to anyone but Trowa, anyway.

"Y'wanna head up to the house?" Trowa suggested, standing and brushing off the seat of his pants.

"Naw—you go on ahead," I told him, my gaze lost in the swirling depths of the lake as I tried to figure out what to do next when it came to Heero. "I like bein' by the water. Helps me think."

He patted my shoulder. "Don't think too hard," he advised. "Just let it happen."

Easy for him to say, I thought, as he walked away. _He'd _fallen for a nice, charming, openly-gay lawyer—not a stubborn, dedicated, still-in-the-closet cop.

I sighed, kicking lazily at the water and watching the way the droplets flew and spattered onto the surface.

Sure, Trowa could tell me to relax—but that didn't make it happen. I thought back to the night before last, when Heero'd been flirting with me in the kitchen, and I'd told him maybe I'd never found anything I wanted so badly before. God, wasn't _that _the truth?

Much as I'd wanted Solo back, after he dumped me, I don't think I'd ever felt the kind of raw _need _for him that I was beginning to have for Heero. And as for Zechs, well, he'd pursued me. When he died, it hurt—deeply. But I never felt that I just couldn't live without him. In spite of going off the deep end right after his funeral, I didn't really want to follow him into death.

But after Heero woke me from my nightmare and then just blew me away with his gentle and thorough love-making, I couldn't imagine how I'd cope if he ended up dying while protecting me. And if I went into relocation, knowing he was still alive somewhere, I thought I might just go nuts. I mean, shit. I'd had a taste of him, and I was hooked worse than I'd ever been on drugs.

"Fuck me," I sighed, putting my face in my hands. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I really didn't want to be so—invested—in a guy I wasn't sure wanted me for more than a short-term fling.

But then, it's not like I had a choice. My heart had already made its choice.

And did that make me a louse? I mean, Zechs hadn't been dead a month yet, and I was already craving someone else's touch more than I'd ever wanted his.

Had I not really loved him? Then what had it been? Lust? Affection? Had I only been attracted to his power?

Fuck no. Zechs had taught me so much. He'd taught me how to cook, and taken me to art museums and the ballet. I'd learned how to dress and act in a five-star restaurant. Hell, he'd even made me learn a silly little duet on the piano with him. There'd been real feelings there—on both our parts.

Why, then, was I so sure that if Zechs were still alive, and I'd met Heero some other way, I'd still have been drawn to my blue-eyed cop more than to my crime lord lover?

There was just something about him; something about the way it made my heart leap when Heero looked at me with desire in his eyes. I only knew that no one had ever made me feel the way he did…not Solo, not Trowa, and definitely not Zechs.

It felt like making him want me was the most important thing in the world. Like earning his respect and love was my whole reason for existing.

How fucked up was that? I mean, shit, I'd always had a strong sense of "self." And yet, I'd probably have done anything Heero asked, just to please him.

I was beginning to wonder if I was losing my mind.

All I could hope was that I wasn't alone in the way I felt.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for me to get my answer. 'Ro stayed behind with me while the others went off to shop, and when he showed up on the dock, I just had to push a bit.

We ended up having a conversation about "us," which was pretty good—especially when he admitted the sex meant as much to him as it had to me. Hearing that directly from him made two-thirds of my anxieties melt away.

Then he just swept me off my feet—literally and figuratively.

He kissed the shit out of me, peeled me out of my shirt and got me to drop my pants—and then the fucker threw me into the lake!

Yep. Turns out "immersion therapy" is his chosen teaching method, and he'd decided to teach me how to swim. Asshole.

Adorable asshole.

Once we were both wet, and he'd warmed me up with some truly breathtaking sex, he actually got into a sort of teasing mood that was just—awesome. I'd never seen him so carefree and open with his emotions as he was while he taught me to swim.

And repeatedly fucked the daylights out of me right there in the chilly water of that lake.

Shit, the guy had stamina.

And talent.

And the hottest body I'd ever had the privilege of touching, licking, sucking…um, yeah. You get the idea.

At any rate, we ended up sunbathing nude on the dock. And out of the blue, he said it.

"I love you."

I think my heart must've stopped for a few seconds there. And I wished like hell I could say the words back to him—but I was afraid—afraid he'd die like Solo and Zechs had, afraid he'd change his mind, and desperately afraid he'd die protecting _my _worthless hide. Oh God, I didn't know what I'd do if that ever happened.

So I covered my fear by sidestepping the answer. "You mean it, don't you?"

"Hai."

Not that I could speak Japanese or anything, but I got the gist of it. "I gotta be the luckiest guy on the face of the Earth."

And right then, that's exactly how I felt.


	27. Wild Ride

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters thirty five and thirty six of Witness.

Chapter Twenty Seven: Wild Ride

Dear Diary:

Well, I guess it should come as no surprise that Chang, Yuy and I are once again on the run. But I gotta say, it was one hell of a surprise when it all happened.

It started after I had my day of pure Heaven with Heero in the lake.

Ever heard the expression about "dying happy?" Well, we damn near did.

'Ro got us both dressed and headed up to the house before the others got back, which was pretty smart of him. I mean, we sure as hell didn't need Chang finding us sunbathing nude…though it might've been fun to watch him spontaneously combust. Heh, heh.

At any rate, we kept a low profile, though Heero promised me nothing was over except our relaxing day. Guess that meant he'd still care. And in all honesty, the warm glances he threw my way sort of confirmed that.

Be still, my heart.

Of course, it was too much to hope the peace would last. Heero noticed something on his surveillance that had him heading out for a perimeter check, which left me nothing to do but worry and wait.

Well, _almost _nothing. I managed to busy myself making a really awesome meal for his return. And while it cooked, Chang checked Trowa, Quatre and me out on the weapons he and his partner had on hand.

It rattled me a bit—making the whole situation a bit too real, and adding to my concern for my lover.

I can't describe the wave of relief that swept through me when he came back all in one piece. I wanted to hug him so badly I could taste it. But of course, I couldn't touch him in front of the others.

I had to settle for treating him to a delicious meal. And while I'd cooked for everyone; the only one I'd truly wanted to impress was my hot blue-eyed cop.

Yeah, he was probably pretty impressed when I slid my foot up to his crotch under the table.

I could _not _resist.

Of course, that led to another little heart-to-heart in the hallway, when I was bragging to Trowa about playing footsie at dinner, and Heero wandered in. I was sputtering apologies for embarrassing him, when he blurted out that he wasn't upset about that, but at the thought of how empty his life would be once I went into relocation. He honestly seemed to think his job was all he'd have—that he'd be nothing but a lonely cop without me in his life.

God, what a sweet, insecure, _heart-breaking _confession!

"You will never be _just _anything!"

I meant it, too. I couldn't believe Heero didn't know how incredible he was. He was drop-dead gorgeous, sexy beyond belief, honest, decent, smart, and sometimes even charming. How could such a capable guy not realize he was something special?

I meant to rectify that problem.

I told him in no uncertain terms that if he wanted me to be with him, I'd find a way.

And he told me, with equal fervor, that the only way he could keep me alive was to give me up.

Well, we'd cross that bridge when we came to it. First, we had much more important things to do…like talk Trowa and Quatre out of a truly hare-brained scheme to play decoy for us.

While seeing my pretty blonde lawyer with his hair dyed black was—intriguing—the sight of Trowa with a fake braid just scared the crap out of me. There was no way I was going to let them risk their lives for my sake—more than they had already, anyway.

Honestly, we all got a bit distracted debating the issue—to the point where Chang nearly ended up shot because he was too busy trying to out-argue me to watch what was going on around him.

We'd gone out on the deck—him, Heero and me. And while Chang ranted and I retorted, Yuy was busy with binoculars.

His murmur of "Chang…" distracted me for an instant. Just long enough that I glanced his way, and when he yelled "Down!" I didn't hesitate.

I shoved Chang ahead of me into the hot tub, figuring it was the only real cover available out on that deck, and as I flung myself after him, I felt the jolt of my shoulder connecting with the side of the tub.

Or at least, that's what I thought it was, until we were climbing out, with Chang sputtering indignantly and me trying to explain I hadn't been fooling around.

"Are you wounded?" Yuy asked, receiving a head shake from his partner and turning a worried gaze to me.

"Not me. Just banged my shoulder on the way in."

He turned me sharply around, hissing at what he saw, and I looked over my shoulder to see blood spreading across the back of my tee shirt.

Well, color me surprised!

Once I realized I'd been shot, the graze stung like a bitch. I got shoved into the hallway with Quatre and Trowa while Yuy and Chang went after the shooter.

I thought Quatre was gonna burst into tears; his expression was so—distraught. "Jesus, Duo, what were you thinking?" He'd grabbed some sort of first aid kit and his hands were shaking so badly it's a wonder he could open it.

"Wasn't," I admitted, sitting in the hallway and watching Trowa load a rifle and take a position to stand guard over us. "Tro', would you _please _get back here under cover?"

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "I'm in a safe position, Duo. I've got the walls for shelter, and a good view of the door."

"But—." My protest was cut off as Quatre pressed a bandage to my injured shoulder. "Ow! Fuck!" I glared at him. "I _knew _lawyers were sadistic, Quat—but sheesh!"

He laughed shakily. "Sorry—but I need to get the bleeding stopped."

"It's just a graze," I assured him, trying to see the back of my shoulder and failing miserably.

"A deep one," he pointed out, keeping steady pressure on the gauze he'd applied. "Might even have clipped the shoulder blade."

"I'll live."

Y'know…there are phrases you should never use. Case in point…as soon as I'd said those two words, we heard shots outside, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Stay down!" Trowa hissed unnecessarily. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to Quat, but we both were pretty well plastered to the floor by then.

Moments later, I heard the door burst open.

"Shit!" Trowa blurted, lowering his gun only after he saw who it was. "Did you get him?"

"We did," came Heero's voice. "But someone else took him out before we could beat any information out of him. How's Duo?"

"I'm fine!" I called, impatiently pulling away from Quatre. "Can I come out?"

"Yes. And get into some dry clothes. We're leaving."

After that, things pretty much degenerated into chaos. Chang and Yuy went back out after another sniper, while Tro', Quat, and I threw on some dry clothes and grabbed our bags. By the time my two police protectors came back in, the laptop was beeping an alarm I could only assume meant more trouble was on the way.

It was—in the form of a freakin' fleet of SUVs heading up the logging road.

Trowa and Quatre got their wish; they got to play decoy, while the rest of us headed for the boat.

I had only a minute before we split up, but all the things that could go wrong flooded my mind, and in a moment of panic I dragged Quatre aside, pressing him up against the wall and speaking in an undertone.

"Ya gotta promise me something, Quat."

"Anything."

"Just—no matter what happens—and especially if anything goes wrong, an' I can't be there to do it—I need to know if you'll look after Trowa."

"Of course I will."

"Not just now—but later—if I make it to the trial and they send me off into relocation. I just—it'd help to know he'll have someone—that he won't just be on his own again."

As independent as I knew Trowa was, I also knew what a warm and affectionate lover he could be. I wanted so much for him—as a friend and a lover—I wanted to know he wouldn't be as alone as I was afraid I'd end up. As I told Quatre, "a guy like him deserves someone to love, y'know?"

"He's got someone…someone who loves him like crazy."

I hugged the stuffing out of Quatre, still trying not to look too hard at that incongruously black hair, and dashed over to Trowa, throwing my arms around him. But before I kissed him goodbye, I glanced over at Heero, to be sure he wouldn't misunderstand the gesture.

He gave a little nod, and my heart just melted. God, I loved him!

It just amazed me that he actually _got _it—what Trowa and I were to each other. He didn't waste time being jealous, and I didn't have to feel guilty for the warm, lingering goodbye kiss I gave my best friend.

When I ran to join Yuy and Chang, I didn't even look back, knowing that the best way to keep myself and them alive was to trust that Quatre and Trowa could take care of themselves, and focus on _our _escape.

And escape we did—in high style.

I got my boat ride after all, though I hadn't pictured it involving guys shooting at us from the shore as we took off, or from another boat, which came out of fuckin' _nowhere_.

I might've noticed it sooner, but I was kinda distracted by Heero asking if I was okay, and looking so intense under fire that he just about took my breath away.

"You're really hot when you're dodgin' bullets, y'know!"

He looked surprised, the start of a smile breaking across his lips, just before a bullet pinged on the side of the boat and we both dove for cover.

"Company!" Chang called. "And their boat looks faster!"

Heero leaned in close. "Stay down!" he said, dropping a quick kiss on my ear in the process.

Do I sound like a total pervert, thinking about how much I'd like him to fuck me through the bottom of that boat, even as bullets were whining past at regular intervals?

At any rate, in spite of the thrill of the chase and the adrenaline rush that little ear-kiss had given me, I managed to make myself useful helping Chang reload weapons, while Heero tried to evade our pursuers.

When he started to slow down, Chang and I exchanged a baffled look.

"Why're we slowing down?" I yelped.

"Don't worry."

_Yeah, right._

"Yuy?" Chang blurted, sounding more panicky than I had.

"We're not doing something crazy like surrendering?" I had to ask.

"Never!"

"Then what the fuck _are_ we doing?" Chang demanded, stealing my line.

"Letting them catch up."

"Why?" we both screamed.

"Trust me!"

_Trust me? _

It might have been easier to trust him if I'd had a clue as to what he was doing. But easy or not, both Chang and I placed our faith in Heero Yuy and held on tight.

He made some maneuver with the boat that only he understood, and the next thing I knew, the throttle was wide open again, and Heero was hauling Wufei back up to take his place at the wheel.

He then grabbed the rifle his partner had dropped, and took a position at the rear of the boat. When the speedboat chasing us hit some submerged obstacle and was thrown skyward, Heero was ready—blasting out shots that must've ruptured a fuel tank.

At any rate, there was a pretty cool explosion and fireball, before the remains of that boat slammed back into the water.

"Holy fucking shit! That was awesome!"

The look Heero gave me was filled with affection, and a warm smile spread across his handsome face.

_God_, I loved that man.


	28. Hide and Seek

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters thirty six and thirty seven of Witness.

Chapter Twenty Eight: Hide and Seek

So…after the wild boat ride, Chang, Yuy and I moved on to ATVs. If nothing else, fleeing from Khushrenada gave me a chance at all kinds of new experiences…car rides, llama farms, going out clubbing on a vintage Harley (which I sort of wondered what had happened to), swimming, boat rides…and now four-wheeling through a deep, dark forest.

But all that paled in comparison to the fact that Heero was going to trust my judgment and make a pit stop at Howard's.

It was touch and go for a bit when I suggested it. Not that I could blame 'Ro. I'd screwed up royally by calling Hilde the week before. There was sure no reason for Heero to trust my ability to judge people's character.

But Wufei spoke up for me—which was pretty mind-boggling. Shit, we'd only spent one day "bonding," so to speak, and he'd really changed his attitude drastically. While we weren't all warm and fuzzy together, I knew he was grudgingly starting to like me, and if asked, I'd have said he wasn't a half-bad guy. For a cop.

Heh, heh. Old habits.

At any rate, his endorsement of my idea was almost not enough to sell it to Yuy. And it really stung for a moment. Heero loved me, or so he'd said. But I wanted his respect every bit as much as I wanted his love. When he hesitated so long in replying, I started to think I might never have it—that he'd always consider me sort of an errant child, rather than an equal partner.

One of the things Zechs and I had struggled with was what I perceived as an inequality in the relationship. Zechs had been the one with the money and power, the education and class. I felt horribly inferior to him at times, and when he tried to bring me up to his level, he had to knock himself out to not be condescending about it. Yeah, it was a close call as to whether I'd be pleased or pissed at whatever he tried to do. He must've felt like he was dealing with a lit keg of dynamite at times.

I didn't want it to be like that with Heero. He'd seen me at my worst, and he'd seen me rise to an occasion. We'd had our power struggles and tugs of war along the way. Now that we'd reached some sort of understanding, I guess I was hoping for a bit of a fresh start. I wanted the chance to prove I was worthy of being at his side. And there was no way to do that if he couldn't trust my judgment.

"Fine. We'll go to Greenville. But if you're wrong, it's all our lives."

"Y'think I'd take that chance. With _your _life? Or Chang's?"

I knew I'd said the right thing—reminded him how much I valued his life. He _had _to know I held it more dear than my own. At least, I hoped he did.

At any rate, we headed out on the ATVs, and we were making pretty good time until the FBI choppers showed up with fuckin' spotlights. We ended up ducking under some trees and hiding out for hours, while they flew search patterns and damn near found us.

I think that was the first time I felt truly hopeless. I mean, shit. I'd gotten depressed about Zechs' funeral and stuff…and I'd been frustrated at being holed up with minimal diversions at hand. But while I lay half-under Heero on a carpet of pine needles and dirt, with helicopters combing the landscape, I felt like there was just no chance in Hell we could stay ahead of them much longer.

"It's been fun, Yuy, but maybe you should consider handing me over."

I knew Heero wouldn't go for my suggestion, but the vehemence with which Chang objected made my jaw drop.

"Shut up, Maxwell! We are not 'handing you over' to _anyone_—not now—not ever!"

Whoa. I wasn't really ready for that reaction from Chang. And under other circumstances, it would've made me smile, and maybe tease him about being possessive over lil ol' me. Instead, it just made me feel more responsible than ever for anything that happened to him or to Heero. I seriously didn't want either of them dying for me.

That thought weighed on my mind throughout the night, and into the next day when we ditched our rides and ended up on foot, heading for Greenville.

Howard and I went way back. I'd known him from my earliest days with the Reapers. He ran with a different group, the Sweepers. They weren't so much a gang, as an organization. Not a big enough group to pose competition to the syndicate, which would've been more than stupid. But big enough to have some legitimate businesses. They worked in salvage and actually helped clean up the streets a bit by employing homeless kids to gather the stuff they wanted. It gave some kids a chance at honest work, anyway.

Maybe if I'd met him before Solo, I wouldn't have gone the route I did.

But by the time Howard and I crossed paths, I'd pretty well established my place on the streets. When I bumped into Father Maxwell and started thinking about how to clean up my act, I took a few small jobs Howard offered, and we got to be good friends.

He was nothing but supportive when I hooked up with Trowa and finally got off the drugs. And though he teased me about stripping for a living, he was genuinely happy that I had a roof over my head, money in my pocket, and a way to make an honest dollar.

When Howard made the decision to retire and leave the big city, I was both glad to see him go, and a bit heartbroken at the same time. He'd gotten under my skin a bit, like a big brother, and I knew I'd miss his humor and friendship. But at the same time, he'd always talked about his dream of having his own garage and a quiet place in the country. How can you begrudge a man his dream, hm?

At any rate, when I'd suggested going to Howard, it was because I knew deep-down that he could be trusted—to a degree I'd never even have considered trusting Hilde. He was up there with Trowa and Father Maxwell as people I knew would have my back if I ever needed them to.

Don't laugh. Father Maxwell could be a seriously tough guy when he had to. I'd seen him face down drug dealers and gang leaders when they came too close to the street where the orphanage was. Yeah, he could watch my back any time!

And Trowa—well, after the lions, I don't think anything could scare him—except maybe admitting his feelings to a hot blonde lawyer. And that was all taken care of. Yessss!

We won't even go into the mixed emotions I had about _that_.

Or maybe we will. On the one hand, I was glad Trowa had found someone to love; and on the other, I was terrified it might not work out. And if it didn't, I'd probably never know. I'd be off in relocation while my best friend tried to pick up the pieces of his heart. After all the times he'd been there for me, I felt horrible at the prospect of not being there for him when he needed me the most.

Maybe I could ask Heero to keep an eye on the situation for me. I thought maybe now that he knew Trowa wasn't a rival, he might start to think of him as a friend. God knew they'd probably need each other's moral support after I was gone. If there was one thing they had in common, it was their affection for me. And I don't mean that to sound cocky or arrogant. It was pretty obvious they both cared. Now, if I could just get them to care about each other, that'd be _two _worries off my mind in relocation.

But to get back to Howard…the old man was so damn glad to see me it just about killed me to have to tell him I couldn't hang out and shoot the shit with him for a while. But 'Ro had made it abundantly clear we had to keep it short. So about all I had time for was a quick note I left in the john.

Actually, I left two notes. The first was to Howard—a brief reassurance that I was fine and with my two escorts of my own free will, but that if anything happened to me, he was to take my second note to Detective Yuy of the First Precinct in Sanc.

The second note—well, that was something I'd been mulling over in my mind since the FBI choppers showed up. I wanted Heero to know that if I ended up dead during this whole debacle, it wasn't his fault. I knew damned well he'd blame himself, no matter how it went down—and at the very least, I had to let him know _I _didn't blame him.

Secondly, I wanted to clue him in about something Zechs had mentioned. During one of our "pillow talk" sessions, he'd talked about wanting out of Oz—wanting to disappear into obscurity and take me with him to live happily ever after—or something like that. At any rate, in the course of our discussion, which I interrupted with lots of teasing and fondling (hey, Zechs was a truly fine specimen of manhood—I'd never been able to keep my hands off), he said he'd tucked away a safety deposit box with something for me, in case anything happened to him. He wasn't sure how his departure would go over with his superiors—that being Treize Khushrenada, the fucking bastard himself—and he wanted me to have a safety net of some sort. I wasn't sure what he meant, and I'd have assumed it was just cash or drugs or shit like that—but he'd mentioned it would protect me from Oz. That last bit made me think it might be something Heero could use, assuming I didn't make it to Khushrenada's trial.

And by this time I had serious doubts about that. Not that I thought my protectors were in any way lacking. But I'd seen our opposition—twice—and I had a feeling we were seriously outnumbered and outgunned. I felt a little bit doomed.

I guess that's why I wanted to assure Heero he hadn't failed if I ended up dead. And it's definitely why I dared to write the third part of the note—the "I love you." He needed to know how I felt about him, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to make myself say the words—or even if I did, how long it might take. So this way, if I didn't screw up my courage before someone blew my head off, I'd at least be able to let him know.

Yeah, morbid shit, wasn't it? But it needed to be done. And I squeezed in my note-writing in record time in Howard's little bathroom, jotting it down on toilet paper and tucking it in the pair of reading glasses the old man had left on the edge of the sink. I just hoped he didn't use the wad of paper without looking at it first!

When I got out of the john, Howard, Chang and Yuy were still bristling at each other—all protective and wary. It might've been cute if I'd had time to hang around and tease them. But we needed to keep moving; so all I got to do was promise Howie I was okay and ask him to stay mum about my visit if anyone showed up looking for me.

He gave us his car without so much as a flicker of hesitation, which seemed to placate Heero—though he expressed his usual paranoia, and I expressed my pissed-offedness at his mistrust of a guy I considered family.

We got on the road pretty quickly after that, and it just about made my day when I found a stray pack of cigarettes in the back seat—that being one thing I'd forgotten to request from the last grocery shopping expedition. I settled in for a much-needed nicotine break and an even more-needed nap.


	29. Slumming

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters thirty eight and thirty nine of Witness. It's slightly shorter than recent chapters, but has to end where it does to lead into the next part.

Chapter Twenty Nine: Slumming

Dear Diary:

What an eventful trip we had getting to Cathy's little ocean side hideaway!

First off, the cat's out of the bag about Heero an' me. Chang finally got a clue!

Hell—he should've gotten about a million clues by that time—but maybe he's a slow learner.

At any rate, guess I should back up and explain a bit. I'd managed to convince my babysitters to let me handle our accommodations for a night. They seemed to be having a debate about whether our appearance was a bit too—suspicious—for us to show up at a legitimate hotel. Rather than explain to them that the dives on the cheap side of town wouldn't give a shit _what _we looked like, I coaxed them into letting me take the lead.

I'll say it here. I really _hate_ being mistaken for a hooker. It's happened so many times in my life, that it's become a serious trigger for pissing me off. I know the long hair throws people—and I could probably handle them thinkin' I'm a chick, from behind—but to have them assume that because I'm male, long-haired, and hotter than Hell, I must sell my body in order to eat—well, that just seriously ticks me off!

I suppose stripping isn't _too_ far removed from hooking. I mean, both occupations require the use of your body. But beyond that, there's no comparison.

When I worked at the Jungle, nobody touched me if I didn't want to be touched. And while I might've paraded around naked while guys whistled, cheered, and jerked themselves off—I never, ever, traded sex for money. Even I had my standards.

Those standards had been drilled into me at a very early age. First by a couple of abusive cops, and later by Solo; he'd been damned insistent that no one in the gang resorted to turning tricks. And after my experience in a dark alley, I wasn't too keen on the whole concept anyway.

I suppose I owed Solo big-time for teaching me that there were pleasant aspects to sex. Not that we ever went beyond touching, kissing and blowjobs—but I found out how very good it could feel. And I learned that the best part was who you were _with_.

Maybe that's why having a hot, blue-eyed cop call me a hooker stung so very much. Even as I was kicking and flailing between two flat-footed assholes, I could see how truly drool-worthy he was. And the contempt in those dark eyes of his was like a slap in the face.

Or maybe a punch—since that's what I goaded him into. Heh, heh. Yeah, Heero's and my first meeting was seriously fucked up.

But those eyes stuck in my memory, and the echo of his voice saying something about the "hookers getting more ornery all the time" rang in my ears every time I thought about stooping.

I went hungry more than once because I wasn't willing to bend over for money.

And yeah, I'll admit that I might've had money for food if I hadn't been using it to buy drugs.

Past history.

In the "here and now," and in the interest of procuring a safe hideout for the night, I actually dressed, and acted, the part of a streetwalker. Hey, it got Chang, Yuy and me into a seedy little dive where we at least had hot showers and a decent night's sleep.

Odd as it might sound, that's where I found out Chang was onto 'Ro and me. I guess while I showered, they talked. When I came out and sat down so Heero could re-bandage my bullet wound, he fried my circuits with a very hot and thorough kiss.

I started to say, "Chang—."

And Heero finished with, "—knows."

Well, if that didn't just about make my heart stop, as I envisioned the Chinese man's scorn and ire directed at my lover.

"Aside from reminding me of departmental regulations concerning fraternization with a witness, he took it well."

"Well" indeed.

Ya coulda knocked me over with a feather when Wuffers actually allowed me to sleep in the middle of the one bed we had to share—knowing full well that I'd be snuggled up against Heero first chance I got.

Yeah, he took it well.

I could tell he was still a bit uncomfortable about it—but, fuck! The guy had been a raving homophobe from day one, and here he was tolerating being stuck with two gay guys who were in love. You couldn't ask more than that from him.

I think that's the point in our journey where I really began to respect Chang as more than just a competent police officer. I started to see the human being in there—maybe even someone I'd like to call a friend some day.

Ah hell—may as well just admit it—he had me back when he offered to finish reading "The Three Musketeers" to the kids at the orphanage for me.

But when I realized he wouldn't turn his back on Heero just because he was gay, I wanted to fuckin' hug the guy! I settled for trying to be on my best behavior—keeping the public displays of affection to a minimum in front of the poor man. And he responded by actually letting down his guard and teasing both Heero and me as we left that seedy hotel and got back on our way.

The trip was actually becoming kind of fun by that time. Or it would have been, if I hadn't been worried sick about what had become of Trowa and Quatre.

Yeah, with a good night's sleep under my belt, I'd moved on to obsessing about whether our decoys had escaped pursuit as cleanly as we had. Though Heero tried putting a call through for me, we didn't get any kind of answer, which did nothing to calm my fears.

Maybe that's why Chang and I had a last little sniping match as we arrived at the ocean. (And as an aside—the ocean is truly _awesome_! All blue and sparkling and moving!)

I took a cheap shot—he took a cheap shot—and I once again started wondering exactly _what _his problem was with me. I knew I'd never met him before. So it was for sure I didn't run over his dog or cut in line in front of him somewhere.

So _what _did I ever do to make him hate my guts?

Heero tried to explain it—at least enough so I knew it wasn't "personal." But that left just as many questions unanswered—and I really wanted to push the issue. I mean, I'd just started to really _like _Chang. I didn't want to go back to hating him.

And in all honesty, I couldn't. I knew that behind the sharp and sometimes cruel barbs, there was a guy with a sense of honor and justice that wouldn't quit. He was capable of great kindness—like he'd shown when I freaked out over the newscast of the orphanage explosion.

And he could be tolerant—like he was when he put the pieces together and realized Heero was gay and in love with me.

So why did he so often resort to harshness and just plain meanness with me?

I meant to find out, if it took the whole rest of the time I was stuck in hiding with him.


	30. Romance

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters forty and forty one of Witness.

Chapter Thirty: Romance

Dear Diary:

Well, the welcome I got from Cathy was almost as warm as Howie's was. She just about hugged the daylights out of me!

And wasn't that a far cry from our first meeting, when judging by the fire in her eyes, I thought she might like to use me for knife practice. Ah, yeah. She was a bit protective of Trowa, and she did _not _take to me at first.

How she could tell I was high, I never did find out. But she knew. And she just about threw me out of the circus tent where she'd caught me making out with a guy she loved like a brother.

Damn, the girl could cuss!

But this time she was all sweetness and light—ogling Heero until I made sure she knew he was mine, and then ogling Wufei right afterwards.

Hm—there was potential there. I was kinda hoping if she distracted Chang with her womanly wiles, I might snag some more quality time with my hot, blue-eyed detective. Yum!

Actually, as _part_ of that quality time, I was hoping to find out a little more about 'Ro. When he'd been settling me down after the latest Chang/Maxwell bout, he'd promised we'd do some talking. And it sounded like a pretty good idea.

I mean, he knew all kinds of shit about me, and I didn't even know where he grew up, or why he decided to be a cop. Granted, he'd said the same about me—that he didn't know my favorite color or anything. But seriously, he'd read my rap sheet; he knew a hell of a lot more than I'd learned in trade! During our stay in that fleabag motel, I'd even 'fessed up to having been so awestruck by our first meeting that I'd used the memory as an anchor, every time I was tempted to try whoring. I mean, shit. How much more gut-spilling could I do?

Guess I'd find out—when 'Ro and I grabbed some "alone" time.

I was a bit torn on that. While it'd be nice to get to know more about each other—I really liked the mind-blowing sex, too. I hoped he didn't try to use up _all_ our making out time on idle chit-chat, y'know?

By supper time, I was starting to see hints of attraction between Cathy and Wufei that promised to be a wonderful distraction for the uptight Chinese detective. He seriously needed to get laid. Maybe that'd dislodge the stick up his ass, hm?

But I about busted a gut when Cathy asked if he worked at The Jungle!

Way to go Cath! She couldn't have insulted him any better—implying he might be gay _and _a stripper all in one breath! If I'da said something like that, he'd have finished the job for Khushrenada right then and there.

But Cathy totally got away with it! A little blushing and flustered apologizing, and Chang was once again putty in her hands.

Damned female wiles!

Maybe she could teach me that trick some day.

Anyhow…another piece of my life fell into place when Heero took me out walking after dinner, and we got back to hear that Trowa had called and left word he and Quat were okay.

I can't describe the relief that went through me. It was almost as profound as the time Quatre told me the orphans hadn't been home when the place exploded. My knees almost went weak.

And after that revelation, I was even able to enjoy the movie we hung out and watched.

Good thing, too, since Yuy decided to grill me right afterwards. Once a cop; always a cop.

Oh, he lulled me into a false sense of security first by telling me about his childhood and how he ended up being a detective and all. But then he made me rip my guts out and talk about my time on the streets, and in the orphanage…how I was turned out by every foster home that ever tried me on for size. He asked about the rape, and I had to dig through that shitpile of memories, too.

And this was a guy who'd said he loved me? I'd hate to have seen how he'd treat someone he hated.

Anyhow—somehow in that whole damned conversation, he even got me to tell him that I'd been planning to lay low for awhile until I could slip back into Sanc and kill Treize some dark night.

Jesus, the guy could drag stuff out of me that even Father Maxwell couldn't have gotten in the damned confessional!

"Didn't mean to lose my heart, though," came out before I could stop it.

"Have you?"

Well, that surprised me a bit. I thought he knew.

"But you haven't—said it."

Shit. He wanted to hear the words!

I almost told him to just go back to Howard's and read the damned note. Maybe I could tell him in writing what I couldn't bring myself to say out loud.

"It's not that I don't feel it—just—." Damn. I couldn't even force it past my throat.

"Stop trying to explain. You don't owe me explanations."

God, wasn't that just a kick in the head? Of _course_ I owed him—my life—my heart—and pretty much anything else he wanted from me. I tried, in a roundabout way, to explain that I felt kind of jinxed when it came to saying certain things to people. And he seemed to sort of understand.

Then he proceeded to drag a promise out of me to stay off drugs no matter what happened down the road. Even if he died saving me, or I ended up in relocation and never got to see him again, he wanted my word that I wouldn't poison myself with drugs again.

I never _could _say "no" to him…not when it came right down to it. I gave him my word, and then asked for something in return; I asked him to make me really happy "right here and now."

And y'know what? I don't think he was very good at saying "no," either—because he did. Make me happy, that is. Right then and there.

Well, actually, it was back in my room. And it took us quite a while to work our way there, since he kept pressing me up against the wall for some serious kissing and groping.

Then the bastard completely fried my circuits by offering to bottom.

I gotta tell you, he almost made me lose it right there in the hallway when he made the suggestion. I actually had to push him back so I could catch my breath and put a hand to my crotch to concentrate on holding off an impending embarrassment.

I looked up to see a cross between confusion and amusement on his face.

"Problem?" he asked with a smirk.

"Don't fuckin' ask if I wanna _do _you until you scream, an' not expect a reaction, Yuy," I rasped out hoarsely. God, who knew he had such a dirty mind?

"You find the idea _that _exciting?" he teased.

Two could play at this game.

I looked up from under my lashes, sure he could see the lust burning in my eyes. "Do I find the idea of shoving my _hard_, _aching_ cock into that _hot_, _tight_ ass of yours exciting—?"

His pupils dilated, and a groan escaped his lips—then he grabbed me and all but dragged me to my room, flinging open the door and shoving me inside. "Get the fuck out of those clothes!" he ordered, closing and locking the door so fast I hadn't even finished stumbling to the bed.

It became a contest after that. Remember when I said I could just about make Zechs come if I said the right things with the right inflection? Well, 'Ro and I tried doing that to each other. And it was about the fuckin' hottest thing ever!

"You ever bottom before?" I demanded, even as I was tossing my clothes aside and reaching for his belt.

"Never wanted to," he answered, yanking it impatiently off through the loops.

I groaned aloud at the thought. He was gonna be so damned tight—.

He ground up against me, as if totally aware of what was running through my head, and I gasped and pulled back. "Shit, Yuy—not so fast!"

"What? Can't handle a little teasing?" he crooned, taking my erection and slipping it between his thighs as he pressed us together. "Gonna lose it before you even get _inside me_?"

"Oh, fuck you!" I blurted.

"That's what I _told _you to do," came the husky response.

Dammit—he had an answer for everything tonight!

He spun us around so his back was to the bed, and just let himself flop onto it bonelessly, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat and his erection standing proudly at attention. "C'mon, Maxwell! Put up or shut up."

Even as my cock twitched in anticipation, I smirked evilly at him. "Want me to put my money where my mouth is—or my _mouth _where your _dick _is?"

His mouth opened in a round "o" of realization, even as I dropped to my knees on the edge of the bed and swallowed him whole.

His entire body jerked in reaction, and he bit his lip to keep from screaming so loud Chang and Cathy would have _had _to hear it.

"Mmm—D-Duo—!" he whined, squirming at my determined ministrations.

I paused and grinned around my mouthful. "Too much for you?"

In answer, he thrust up with his hips, forcing himself in deeper than before, and nearly making me choke before I got past the gag reflex and just swallowed around him. He let out a muffled moan, and I glanced up to see his forearm across his mouth.

I pulled off him and grabbed the tube of lube I'd taken from my pocket, back when I was setting a speed record for undressing. "Nice try," I taunted, running my tongue over the tip of his erection as I slicked up a couple of fingers. "But ultimately futile."

I went down on him again, and at the same time slid a finger in, aiming for his sweet spot.

He arched up immediately, throwing both arms out to grip the comforter on either side, as his mouth opened in a silent scream.

_Aw, c'mon—let it out!_

I knew he was trying to keep the noise level down for our uptight neighbors—but I really wanted to make him scream with pleasure. So I went for broke—easing a second finger in and working the tight—_oh, so __**very **__tight—_ring of muscle. And then I went for that spot again and at the same time took him in deep and hummed.

"Jesus Christ!" he rasped, turning his face sideways into the pillow and letting out an inarticulate cry of ecstasy as he came.

I almost came with him; again, it's a really heady feeling to make a guy lose control like that. But I savored the moment, keeping my attention focused on his taste and smell and the feel of him around my fingers.

"Not fair," he panted, looking a bit glassy-eyed as he raised his head and tried to glare at me.

I grinned unrepentantly. "Sue me."

By the time I'd worked up to three fingers inside him, his arousal seemed to be waking again—and mine was about to kill me if it didn't get some relief. But he'd never done this before, and I was damned if I'd take a chance on rushing things. I wanted him to enjoy it.

"Gonna fuck me any time soon?" he asked a bit snidely.

I was tempted to take the bait—but I saw the slight tension in his face, and just about melted. Fuck, but he was nervous!

"Yeah, I'm gonna fuck you," I said, giving him a warm smile. "But not 'til you're ready, lover."

He rocked his hips against my fingers. "Any time _you_ are."

Aw—he was bluffing for all he was worth—trying not to show his unease. How fuckin' cute!

I must've used the whole damned tube of lube, determined to make this as pleasurable for him as possible. And then I replaced my fingers with the tip of my cock, hissing in pleasure as I breeched the tight ring.

He tensed a little and I backed off—just staying still and giving him time to adjust.

"Fuck 'Ro—you are so tight. Y'sure you want to—?"

"Dammit yes!" he growled, in that ever-so sexy way that always gave me goose bumps. "I want you inside me—I want to feel you every way I can. You said I was yours—now prove it! Take what belongs to you!"

_When did I—? Oh, right! When I introduced him to Cathy as "Mine!"_

So I did as he asked, slowly sheathing myself the rest of the way, and leaning in to kiss him deeply and thoroughly. "Mine!" I whispered in his ear. "You, Heero Yuy, are all mine. And I'm yours." I shifted my weight a little pulling back and thrusting gently. "You good with this?"

"More than good," he insisted, and I could see the rush of pleasure in his eyes as he got used to the feeling of being filled and began to enjoy it.

Damn, but he was the perfect boyfriend—sexy, dominant, and yet versatile. He made me feel like we were made for each other—like we just _fit _perfectly. It didn't matter who was on top when we both were so totally blown away by the sensations.

"Faster," he ground out, interrupting my momentary lapse of concentration. "Harder!"

"Isn't that my line?" I teased, before giving him exactly what he'd asked for.

In case you have any doubts, sex is a very good way to forget about your problems. I forgot about Khushrenada, the murder, the fact that thugs were out there hunting for us. Hell, for awhile there, I probably couldn't have told you my damned name!

Heero Yuy was better than any drug I'd ever tried, and it was an addiction I didn't plan on getting over.


	31. A Stitch in Time

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters forty one and forty two of Witness.

Chapter Thirty One: A Stitch in Time

Man, sometimes my life just sucks!

Oh, wait—isn't that how I started this whole journal thing? Pretty damn close anyway. Guess I need a new line.

But honestly, it fits.

I was on a wonderful high after a night of fucking Heero Yuy and then a morning of him returning the favor—right up until I found out the real definition of "beach glass."

Yeah, I'd begged, pleaded, cajoled and coerced Heero into taking me down to the beach. Not that he could resist my pouty lips, big sad eyes, and the extra-short cutoffs I'd made for the occasion.

I really loved how he broke down whenever I turned on the charm. While I knew he'd never back down on the big stuff—like security and protecting me—when it came to the little things, he just about bent over backwards to please me.

It had started with that silly cd player, if you think about it. He didn't buy it just to keep me busy or keep my music off the radio; he bought it because he knew I'd enjoy it, too. I think he might've had a crush on me even then.

Well, actually, he admitted to being attracted from the moment he'd had me sprawled over the hood of the car. But I think that cd player was the first gesture I could actually recognize as "affectionate."

Sweet, huh? _I_ think so.

At any rate, Heero took me to the beach and it was truly awesome. The sand just stretched on forever—and the water was so wild and sparkly with foam! It was something you'd have to see to believe. And since it was my first time at the ocean, I just soaked it all in—the sand and seaweed.

It was as much fun as the lake had been, even without sex. Heero insisted the sand would make beach sex pretty uncomfortable, and he might've been right. But having a little seaweed fight and a race along the shore was a total blast!

The little fucker was fast; I gotta admit. If there hadn't been trashcans and fences to slow him down on our chase down the alleys of Sanc, he might've caught me that time, too. This time, he did it pretty easily, and I fell laughing on the soft sand, pinned under his weight.

What? You think I'd _mind _being pinned under Heero Yuy? _Ever_?

Of course, stuffing seaweed in my mouth did not endear him to me. But I deserved it; and let it not be said that Duo Maxwell can't take a joke.

While he retrieved the stuff I'd dropped when the chase began, I played in the waves.

That damn water was cold! Just about froze my legs before I'd even gotten knee-deep. But I could still feel the soft, rippled pattern of the sand under my feet, and the brush of seaweed on my calves. What a weird feeling!

As I got in up to my thighs, a cold wave slapped the backs of my legs and made me stumble a bit.

"Careful—," Heero called out. "It's not like the lake."

"No—it's colder!" I agreed.

And it was harder to stand still in, even as I teased Heero about coming out to warm me up.

"Not likely."

I pouted, but he wasn't falling for it that time.

"What if a fish bites me? Or a _shark_? Would ya come out here then?" I smirked as I said it, knowing any shark brave enough to threaten me would face the wrath of Detective Heero Yuy.

I'd pity that shark.

But when I made a crack about a shark eating a witness—like a dog eating your homework, Heero's forehead creased with worry. "Why don't you come out now?"

I was about to do it, too. Cathy and Chang had appeared a bit further up the beach, and Heero had me convinced to come out of the water, when I put a foot down and felt pain just lance through it.

I jerked my foot back. "Shit—ow!" And when I grabbed onto it with both hands, I went over backwards, getting a mouthful of salty, icy water for my trouble, and ending up soaked to the skin.

The next thing I knew, Heero was there, standing me up and looking half concerned and half angry. "That is e-_nough_! Considering your situation, pretending to be shark bitten is in very poor taste!"

"N-not k-k-kidding!" I managed through my chattering teeth, wondering if that was exactly what had happened. The stabbing agony in my foot seemed to travel all the way to my knee, and I wasn't sure where or how I was injured. A shark seemed as likely an answer as any.

"Oh my God!" Heero scooped me up in his arms, his face going white as he looked down at my leg.

I wanted to ask him what was wrong, since I couldn't see past my knees, the way he had me cradled in his arms. But I was shivering too hard to unclench my jaw, and then he was striding quickly out of the water, and setting me gently down so he could examine my wound.

Then Cathy and Wufei were there, both looking worried as hell. "What happened?"

"S-stepped on somethin'," was the best I could manage between my trembling lips.

"Broken bottle," Heero announced.

"Hold him," Wufei said curtly, and I found myself being hugged from behind by my boyfriend.

"What're you gonna—hey! Ow! _Fuck_!" I yelped, as Chang unceremoniously yanked the glass from my foot.

It fuckin' hurt like a sonofabitch!

And then Cathy was handing Chang something out of her purse that turned out to be a freakin' maxi pad, and I about died. "Ew! Chang—no!"

But in spite of my protests, he pressed the damn thing against my cut, holding pressure on it. I dunno if it was the pain or the thought of the sanitary napkin that made me squirm more. Girl stuff!

As Heero scooped me up again, while Wufei kept pressure on the wound, I caught a glimpse of his tense, pale face. "Not your fault," I told him.

Of course he blamed himself, babbling about how he should've made me wear shoes, or kept me out of the water. But I tried to get it through his thick skull that shit happens, and sometimes there's no one to blame.

This was part of the reason I'd left that note with Howard. I knew that if anything bad happened to me, Heero would find a way to make it his own fault. Hell, even if I suddenly dropped dead from a brain aneurism, he'd think there was something he should have thought of to prevent it. Talk about an overdeveloped sense of responsibility!

Anyhow, before I knew it, I was stripped and bundled up in a blanket on the couch, my foot elevated. I didn't complain too much, since I got to be curled up in Heero's warm arms—but when they started talking about stitches, I very nearly panicked.

"I don't need stitches, 'Ro! Tell her!"

"Looked pretty deep to me. I think it's a good idea."

"Aw, fuck."

Yeah, I was seriously outvoted on that one. And after double-padding my foot and doing it up with duct tape, Chang took Catherine off to the local vet clinic to get needles and shit for stitching me up.

It was gonna hurt like hell—I just knew it!

It seemed like no time at all before they got back. I think I might've been hoping they'd get lost, or stop to make out somewhere; but no such luck.

On the plus side, Cathy took my idea for how to numb the pain seriously, and brought me some scotch. I managed to get pleasantly buzzed while she and Wufei readied their torture implements, and Heero fussed over me.

Then Cathy came back in, and I sort of burrowed up against Heero's chest, trying to relax and get it all over with.

Don't ever tell her, but I hardly felt a thing. Catherine was damned good with that needle and thread, I gotta say. And she was calm, cool and collected throughout the whole crisis. A girl like that is pretty hard to find. And I said as much to Chang, when she'd gone out to the kitchen again.

"Hey, Chang—y'know Cathy's a little like family."

"Your point?"

"Just—don't fuck with her, okay?" I was suddenly feeling a little brotherly towards her, the way Trowa always had—and I wanted Wufei to know I wouldn't tolerate it if he messed with her emotions.

"Unlike _you_, Maxwell—I don't fuck with people," he growled back.

"I'm just sayin'—."

"And _I'm _saying—I'm not like you and your kind!"

Well, had I stepped on a land mine, or what? Kinda felt like I might lose the use of my _other _foot at this rate.

"_My _kind?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Criminals—street punks—gangs—."

I could almost hear the word "gays" on the end of that sentence.

"We're back to _that_? Jesus, Chang—isn't it about time you told me what the fuck your beef with me is?"

If I'd known his answer, I don't think even the scotch would've given me the guts to ask that question.

"Meilan was my childhood sweetheart," he began.

I don't think I heard another word he said after her name. _Meilan_. How many girls could there be with a name like that?

She'd been a pretty little Chinese girl, with eyes as dark and sparkling as Chang's, and absolutely gleaming black hair. When Solo and I bumped into her in Chinatown, even _I'd _had a passing thought that she was kind of cute. We apologized and helped gather up the fruit she'd spilled, laughing over the incident, and sending her on her way. I never expected to see her again.

But I did. About a week later, Solo decided to check out the farmer's market again—gave me some bullshit line about how getting some fresh fruit for the younger kids was a good idea. I offered to "liberate" some, via the usual slight of hand method; but he wanted to "browse." I guess I shoulda known he wasn't browsing for the same thing I was.

Sure enough, after we'd split up to cover more ground, I found him chatting up the same pretty girl from the week before. He claimed on the way back to our hideout that he wanted to find an "in" with the Chinese merchants in the area. Said he thought maybe Meilan could teach him a little Mandarin and introduce him around.

And I fuckin' fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

Imagine my surprise when less than a month later, after I got to wondering about the amount of time Solo was spending away from the gang—and _me_—I followed him downtown and watched him slip into the shadows between two buildings and take that same pretty girl into his arms and kiss the living daylights out of her.

It still made me sick to think of it. I could still feel the same lurch of my stomach, and the tearing pain in my chest. It didn't hurt any less to think of it now than it did the day it happened.

Funny how trauma works that way. I could look back on the memory of Zechs' death and relive the absolute shock and horror I felt at that time, too. Some things just never, ever fade—no matter how much time passes.

The next thing I knew, I was blurting out her name. "M-meilan? You said her name was—Meilan?"

"Yes. Long Meilan—and before she was swept off her feet by a piece of street trash, she was my fiancée."

_Holy fucking shit!_

I had to put some space between me and Wufei while I dealt with that revelation. I babbled something to him and Yuy about needing to use the bathroom and just about hopped my way down the hall to get away from them.

Not that it worked. When I finally reached my refuge, Heero forced his way in with me, clearly knowing there was something very, very wrong with the way I was acting.

He closed and locked the door behind us, and when he turned around, the look on his face scared the living shit out of me.

"You know something about Meilan's death, don't you?"


	32. Clearing the Air

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter forty two and forty three of Witness.

Chapter Thirty Two: Clearing the Air

Heero's face had some bastard mix of fear and suspicion that was so easy to read it made me sick with dread. He thought I had something to do with it—with Meilan's death. "Damn it, Duo—_talk _to me!"

"It's not what you're thinking."

And how could he even think I was capable of murder—that I might've participated in a drive-by shooting? It stung like hell that he'd believe such a thing. I mean, I know I was no saint; I never claimed to be one. But there were things I drew the line at—things I wouldn't do, no matter what.

Murder was one of them.

Did Heero not _know_ that about me? I wouldn't stoop to whoring; did he think I'd go as far as _murder_?

"Tell me you and your friends weren't the ones who killed her."

"You fuckin' think I'd _do _something like that?"

"I need to hear you say you didn't."

I opened my mouth to scream at him that I was no fucking murderer, and that if he believed I was, he could fuckin' kiss my ass goodbye, and witness protection be damned! I wouldn't stick around with someone who could misjudge me so completely.

But, oh _God_—could I actually walk away from him? Wounded foot notwithstanding—could I even contemplate something like this tearing Heero and me apart?

How would I even breathe again? I just couldn't imagine it. Like I said before, he was so deep inside me, I'd never be free of him, even if I tried.

"Duo—please."

See what I mean? Two simple words from him, and my anger and outrage just slipped away, leaving nothing but the desire to make him understand I'd never do what he was thinking I'd done.

"I didn't do it; none of the Reapers did."

And just like that, he accepted my answer, dropping to his knees in front of me and taking my hands. "Please don't be mad at me—I had to ask."

"I know you did," I conceded, feeling a rush of fatigue and nausea on the heels of my anger. "But what would you have done if I said yes?"

What indeed? We both knew damned well that there was no statute of limitations on murder. If I confessed to a drive-by killing, it would be his job to arrest me for it. My immunity to prosecution only pertained to the Khushrenada case. Crimes I'd committed before that would still be punishable by law.

And then there was Chang; had I actually admitted to having a hand in Meilan's death, he'd probably have torn me apart with his bare hands. Would Heero have told him—risked his response to such a revelation?

His answer took my breath away.

"I'd have lied my ass off to Wufei and anyone else who asked. Nothing can bring Meilan back. And nothing could make me let you be punished for her death."

"You'd forgive me a murder?" I asked incredulously.

"I'd forgive you anything."

I threw myself into his arms, feeling like the most undeserving schlep on the face of the Earth. How could I resist a guy who had such unshakeable loyalty? Who loved me so much, he'd forgive anything I'd ever done, and probably anything I'd ever do?

I'm surprised I didn't end up bawling or something equally stupid. But I did end up clinging to him like he was my lifeline, and spilling the whole story.

I told him how Solo had been my first crush—how I'd totally fallen for him, and how he took it so slowly with me because of what I'd been through before. I really appreciated that about Solo, even after he dumped me for Meilan. He was probably the main reason I got beyond my fear of being touched after the rape; his patience and gentleness earned him my trust, and then my love.

And as much as it hurt when he "traded up" to Meilan, I couldn't totally hate him. He still had a special place in my memory, as someone who'd taken care of me when I really needed it.

That's why I stayed on in the gang. I knew there was no chance I'd ever win his heart back; but I still felt like I owed him. Guess I knew a bit about loyalty, too.

When I finished spilling my guts, Heero told me I needed to share the story with Wufei.

"You two both lost something, Duo. Maybe talking about it will bring you closer; mend that rift you started out with…"

He had a point, though I wasn't too sure of how his volatile partner would react. "Have it your way, Yuy. But if he kills me, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Chang didn't kill me—obviously—though I think there were a couple of points in my story where he seriously considered it.

Like when I mentioned being there during the shooting.

"You were there?" he snapped accusingly.

"Yeah, I was there!" And reliving it wasn't doing my nerves any good at all.

But I pushed on with the story—telling him there was nothing any of us could've done. Even Solo, who was right there with his arm around her, couldn't react in time to stop it—and couldn't do a damn thing to save her. And I kind of resented that Chang seemed to think otherwise.

"D'you think it doesn't bother me to know it should've been me? If I'd been beside Solo—if his arm had been around _me_, instead of her—."

"I wish it _had_—." Wufei stopped abruptly and shook his head. "No—that's not—."

But he was too late to stop the happy little flashback that ran through my head. "Go ahead an' say it, 'Fei. Solo did."

Yeah, he said that and more.

"_Why her? What've I done?"_

"_Wasn't your fault, Solo. She was just in the wrong place—." My place._

_I guess I'd said that last part out loud, because Solo turned on me with absolute rage on his face. "Your place? Shit, Duo—you still resent her, even now? Well, I wish you __had__ been in her place! I wish it had been you, instead of her!"_

_I stumbled back, actually feeling the color drain from my face. "Jesus, Solo, I didn't mean—." I held a hand out, but he slapped it aside._

"_Just get the hell away from me! You'll never take her place, Duo. Never!"_

I hadn't been trying to take her place—just offer a little comfort. But my slip of the tongue had totally set him off, and there was no talking to him.

He eventually cooled down, and even apologized for the outburst. But he never took back what he'd said.

And fuck—just thinking about it had me near tears—shaking like a leaf in Heero's arms as he assured me what a fool Solo had been.

Then Wufei sort of cut in on our embrace. "Let me? I think—I need this."

Next thing I knew, I was nestled against Chang's shoulder, and he was murmuring soothing reassurances in my ear while I tried to choke back sobs. "Hush. That was a long time ago. And I'm sure Solo didn't really mean what he said. He was grieving…and he was foolish."

I don't know why, but hearing that from Wufei made it sound—right. Like maybe Solo hadn't really wished me dead in Meilan's place, but had merely lashed out because of my poor choice of words. Plus, it was probably easier for him to blame me, than to admit _he _was the only one responsible for Meilan's being where she was when she died. And that's what it came down to in the end—he'd made his choice and it cost Meilan her life.

What he'd neglected in that whole equation was that the decision had been as much hers as his. And I sort of hoped I got a chance to explain it to Heero that way, so that if something happened to me during this whole mess, he'd know I was as much to blame for it as anyone. I'd made my own bed, so to speak, and if I died because of what I'd witnessed, there was no one but me at fault.

But I supposed he'd just turn it around and say that, likewise, if _he _died protecting _me_, it'd be _his _choice. So maybe I'd drop the subject all together.

And once I calmed down after my emotional outburst with Chang, and ate some soup, I frankly didn't have the energy to even think any more. I drifted off to sleep right there on the couch.

I woke up a bit later, kind of stiff and sore—but once Heero started running his hand over my tattooed arm, I forgot all about my aches.

"Jesus, Yuy. When you do things like that—."

How to explain that he made me feel—cherished? Without sounding sappy, that is.

Not possible.

We traded some seriously mushy compliments. He thought being with me was like a dream, and I said the same about him. He said he couldn't imagine a sexy guy like me being interested in a serious workaholic like him, and I tried to tell him what a fuckin' turn-on he was. He admitted to having only had a couple of boyfriends in his whole life, and I confessed that no one—not Trowa or even Zechs—had ever felt so right for me.

And then he kissed the living shit out of me, went to bid goodnight to Cathy and Chang, and carried me off to bed.

I eventually even let him get some sleep.

_Go me!_


	33. Respite

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter forty four and forty five of Witness.

Chapter Thirty Three: Respite

Well, the day after my big heart to heart with Chang, I woke with my foot throbbing dully, but the rest of me still relaxed and sated from the thorough fucking Heero'd given me the night before.

Not that I didn't try to tempt him into a little morning romp, but he was in full-on "cop" mode and wanting to get back to guarding my life, instead of indulging my whims.

I'd have to work on that later.

But meanwhile, I got distracted by a visit from Trowa! God, I can't tell ya how great it was to see him—to know for sure that he was alive and well—to be able to touch and hug him.

An' it was kind of fun to see the teasing and mock jealousy that went on between him an' 'Ro, too. Heero was a riot, with his gun in his hand, bein' all macho and protective, and Trowa played it up for all he was worth, looking over my shoulder and smirking devilishly at my lover while I was hugging the stuffing out of him.

They were too cute!

"Aw, 'Ro," I chided, slipping into his arms even more eagerly than Trowa's. "No contest, love. I'm all yours. Forever."

I meant it, too.

Of course, I quickly got distracted by Tro's mention of my poor, departed motorcycle. My sleek, badass baby! Apparently it took a header into a ravine and went out in a pretty spectacular blaze of glory—which, while heartbreaking, was kinda fitting for such a fine ride.

I used to want to go out that way, too. But since hooking up with Heero, the idea of growing old together wasn't quite so repugnant any more. I could see us spending a lifetime together—having some great times—and then just hanging out and being content in each other's company as we aged.

I gotta say, thinking like that was totally weird for me. I'd never really expected to make it past puberty. Hitting twenty was a pretty big milestone for me—and I hadn't even considered thirty, prior to Heero. Go figure.

At any rate, Trowa and I traded stories of how we'd escaped from the thugs sent after us by Khushrenada, and I think we managed to keep everyone pretty well entertained in the process.

I noticed that Heero kept a close eye on us, and there was an occasional trace of what almost looked like jealousy that crossed his face. But he did an amazing job of hiding it.

I was so glad. One of the biggest hurdles for Zechs and me had been that he couldn't handle the closeness Trowa and I shared. He'd tried to, for my sake. But it was pretty obvious there was no way he'd ever include Trowa in our life together. Hell, he'd never even once let me drag him along to a movie, even when I knew it was one Tro' would've loved.

I'd always had to juggle both relationships. And I'd been (and still was) damned determined that I wouldn't sacrifice what I had with Trowa for anyone. But I knew if Zechs and I had succeeded in going away together, it would've been nearly impossible for me to keep in touch with old friends like Trowa—or even Father Maxwell and the kids at the orphanage.

Much as I'd liked the notion of the two of us running off to start a new life—there were aspects of my old life I didn't really want to leave behind. I can't help but wonder how that all would've played out, had Zechs lived.

Anyhow, while I had Trowa at hand, I slipped back to my room and gathered up my sketchbook of pictures I'd done of Heero, Wufei, and places we'd been in our journey. Then I dragged Tro' out onto the breezeway for a little private time.

He knew—the bastard _always _knew when I had something on my mind.

"What've ya got?"

I handed him the sketchbook. "I'd kinda like you to hang onto this for me, if you would."

He lifted the cover, and carefully glanced through a couple of the pages. "Is it all full?"

I shook my head. "But at the rate things have been going, I doubt I'll be able to hang onto it. And I don't want to lose some of those memories, y'know?"

He smiled in understanding. "'Course I know."

"You're in there," I told him. "Those sketches I did of you in the henna…"

"I remember those," he grinned.

"And there's some of this trip, and Heero and Wufei."

"You afraid maybe they won't make it and these pictures are all you'll have to remember them?"

I shrugged. "Maybe that's part of it. And maybe I want to know that if I don't make it, you'll have something to give them from me, y'know?"

Trowa's glare could've put Heero's to shame. "Don't talk about not making it, Duo! You _will _get through this, dammit!"

His vehemence sort of took me by surprise. I mean, I knew he loved me dearly; but I'd thought we both understood that I was facing kind of long odds.

"Jeeze, I'm not givin' up or anything, Tro'!" I said hastily. "I'm just being realistic here. I can't very well haul along a sketchbook and shit when we keep jumping from place to place. And it's not like I'll have a lot of time to draw, anyway." I found my fingers idly tracing one of the lines on the page. "These are some special memories, an' I'd like you to keep 'em safe for me. That's all."

"You know I will," he assured me. "I just don't like hearing you talk like there's no hope left."

"I've got hope," I asserted. "But that doesn't mean I can't make provisions—just in case." I thought back to the note I'd left with Howard, and the will I'd had Quatre draw up for me before I started out on my road trip.

"Well, when this is all over, I'll have your sketchbook tucked away safe and sound for you, okay?" he offered, trying to smile for my benefit.

"Thanks," I said simply.

I had another sketchbook with me—a blank one I could use if time permitted—but I felt better knowing my drawings of Zechs and Heero and Wufei would be in a safer place than my much-used duffel bag.

"So—how's things with you and Quatre?" I asked next, deftly changing the subject to one that had been weighing on my mind a bit.

Trowa's eyes lit up with a truly dreamy look. "Duo—I—I don't even know how to describe it," he sighed. "He makes me feel—like I've never felt before."

I felt my lips curve in a smile, even as my heart gave a tiny twinge of pain. "I'm glad," I said, without a trace of regret in my voice.

Those green eyes studied my face. "Really?" he asked kind of breathlessly.

I nodded. "You deserve the best." I meant it, too. He did.

He blushed and ducked his head; he'd always been more modest than he had a right to be. "Not sure anyone will ever compare to you," he whispered.

"You either," I agreed, taking his hand and enjoying the familiar warmth of his fingers. "We've had something special for a long, long time. But the way you feel for Quat—the way I feel about 'Ro—it's stronger, isn't it?"

He nodded. "It's downright amazing." Again those too-sharp eyes pinned me with a searching gaze. "You didn't really have that with Zechs, did you?"

"I thought I did," I admitted. "He was good to me—and good _for _me. But it wasn't like this." I gave a tiny shrug, and a tilt of my head towards Heero in the kitchen. "This feels right, Tro'. Like you said."

His smile was warm and genuine. "Yeah."

"Just—." I couldn't help a lingering concern for his welfare. "Be careful, will ya? I'd hate for a smooth-talking lawyer to sweep you off your feet and—not live up to expectations."

"He's already exceeded them," Trowa assured me. "We've talked about what we want for the future—the things we'd like to be doing in our careers and our lives. And it sounds like it could work out—the two of us together. He said he's never found anyone like me before—that I'm the most fascinating and exciting guy he ever dated."

"I can attest to that," I quipped with a smirk. "Don't you ever sell yourself short, Trowa Barton. You are a catch!"

"Yeah, that's a good word for it. I'm caught, all right." He smiled wistfully. "Hook, line and sinker."

"And you've got a gorgeous blonde god in your net, too," I reminded him. "Treat him good, love?"

"I intend to."

"And if he ever, ever lets you down, you know I'll be right there to kick his ass."

Actually, that was a totally empty promise; neither of us knew for sure where I'd end up when all was said and done. But we pretended anyway.

"I know you will. And the same goes for you and Yuy."

I nodded, wondering if there was any way I could realistically expect to hang onto Heero throughout the trial and my relocation. I mean, once we got back to the city, he'd have cop stuff to do while I was testifying against Khushrenada. And I'd most likely be whisked off into relocation at the trial's conclusion, without even having a chance to contact him.

"Don't obsess about it," came a quiet voice, accompanied by a squeeze from that warm hand. "Yuy's nuts about you. It'll all work out."

"Sure."

We both lapsed into silence at that point, leaning against one another and simply enjoying the closeness and comfort. All the talking in the world wouldn't take away the uncertainty we were both dealing with; but a few moments of peaceful companionship helped still the worries for awhile.

At any rate, to get back to the story, while Trowa and I were on the back porch having our little heart to heart, I noticed that Heero had busied himself in the kitchen, deliberately making enough noise to prevent any eavesdropping on his part—and I just wanted to grin my fool head off. He was so fuckin' sweet!

I knew he was going out of his way to give us space and not hover, and it just made me love the bastard even more.

Like I said, Zechs' jealous nature had been difficult to tolerate. Heero, on the other hand, while just as possessive of me, all but killed himself to tamp down the jealousy. It was as if he knew it'd only make things harder for me.

He must've heard that saying about "if you love something, set it free," and he was taking it to heart.

Funny thing was, it helped him _win_ my heart.

When Trowa and I came in from the porch, I went straight to Heero and just wrapped myself around him. "Don't think I didn't notice," I told him, wanting to communicate just how much I'd appreciated the private time he gave me and my best friend.

I think the deep, thorough kiss I gave him got the message across pretty well.

If that didn't, then the muffled "—love you—" I mumbled into the front of his shirt a few moments later probably did. Not that I'd repeat it when he asked—because I really did feel like it was a jinx for me—but I was pretty sure he'd heard it the first time.

And I meant it with every fiber of my being. If I hadn't fallen for him because of his killer blue eyes, I'd have fallen for the strong, assured personality—tempered by compassion and warmth.

Yeah, bet ya didn't know Heero Yuy was just brimming with warmth. But the way he'd assured me Quatre loved Trowa as much as he loved me, just made me toasty all over. Toasty enough to nearly blurt out the words I'd sworn never to say out loud again.

And I think he knew how difficult that was for me.

"I love you, Duo Maxwell—and whether you ever say it or not, I know you feel the same way about me. I don't need to hear it, until you feel safe in saying it. Okay?"

I sighed, feeling the tension just drain out of my whole body. "C'n we go sack out on the couch awhile? I'm beat."

I swear, I'd never have made it to the trial if it hadn't been for the strength that Heero just poured into me. When I needed discipline, he could be stern. When I needed a shoulder to lean on, he was strong enough to support the weight of the world. When I needed my fears laid to rest, his steady, soothing voice always seemed to say the right words.

He was fuckin' _everything _to me—and I wondered how the hell that had happened.


	34. Outted

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter forty four, forty five and forty six of Witness.

Chapter Thirty Four: Outted

Wow—there is just _nothing _like hearing your name on the midday news!

Especially when it was never supposed to have been released to the media prior to your arrival as the star witness in a high profile murder case!

_Fucking Hell!_

Heero tried to reassure me that leaks like that happen all the time, but I had visions of everyone who'd seen us in our travels running straight to Khushrenada with the information. I mean, shit! The picture they splashed across the screen highlighted my trademark braid, as well as a clear view of my face and my distinctively-colored eyes.

Actually, it was a pretty flattering shot—one of my favorites that Noin had used for the club. I had that sexy, half-lidded look to my eyes, and with a hand spread across my groin, it looked like I was about to start freakin' playing with myself.

Very hot.

And it felt like life was about to get very hot again—soon.

"It won't change anything. You'll still get to the courthouse alive, testify against Khushrenada, put him away for life, and then start a new life of your own," Heero assured me.

I loved it when he tried to be soothing and reassuring.

But I wanted to clarify a few things. "With you?" I asked.

He nodded. "With me."

I almost jumped up and cheered, though that would've hurt like hell on my injured foot.

"So you're through spouting me rules about how you can't go into relocation with me?" I pushed.

"Duo—I'd walk into Hell with you."

My grin just about split my face, and I ended up snuggled in Heero's arms, sure that no matter what happened from here on out, I'd found my home.

I musta dozed off for awhile after that, because I woke up to the afternoon sun slanting in the windows, and the quiet sounds of someone in the kitchen. Turned out, it was Cathy, and I hobbled my way out to join her in making supper.

'Ro had gone to town, she said, and when he got back the conversation turned to how we were gonna get to the courthouse—shit like that. I got a little wound up from the three of them teasin' me about bears and moose; but that wasn't what it was really about.

I was starting to think about facing Khushrenada in that courtroom, and it was makin' me a little crazy.

He was an imposing man—with every bit as much "presence" as Zechs had. He had these piercing eyes and a way of carrying himself that made you want to either bow at his feet, or run for cover.

Pure power.

But his wasn't sexy, like Zechs' was. Khushrenada's powerful aura simply exuded a ruthless dominance that was frightening.

Not that I was scared of him. Or at least, not that I'd _admit _to being scared of him.

But he was the one person I'd ever seen make Zechs back down. And knowing my lover had been intimidated by the man just made me want to piss my pants at the thought of staring him in the eyes and accusing him of murder.

Maybe they could blindfold me for the court stuff, hm? _Right._

At any rate, Heero settled my nerves, never realizing I was tense about a lot more than just that stupid newscast. And when we went to bed, he calmed me even more, by making love to me in that slow, soothing way he'd done back at the lake house.

Can you say "versatile?" I swear, Heero Yuy's picture is next to the word in the dictionary. He could be a wild, passionate lover—or a gentle, thorough one; he could go from demanding and teasing to reassuring and soothing all in one night.

I was the luckiest guy on the face of the Earth, and I damned well knew it.

I tried to show Heero that I knew it, too, by being as helpful around the place as I could—at least with a bum foot. And when there wasn't anything for me to do in the kitchen, I made myself scarce and brought out my unused sketchbook to start a few more drawings. It seemed to please Heero to see me curled up with it in my lap—at least, he wore a small, sort of enchanted smile whenever he peeked in and I was sketching.

Try catching _that _on paper. It wasn't as easy as you'd think. Getting the quirk of his too-perfect lips just right was a challenge every time—especially when I was so tempted to just go kiss that smirk right off of them!

Anyhow, I tried very hard not to watch the newscasts which were spreading my picture all over the airwaves. But it was kind of unavoidable. Heero assured me that there was no point in taking them too seriously. They'd interview experts about forensic evidence and speculate on what I'd seen and might testify to—and all it did was make me hope, pretty damned fervently, that there was physical evidence to back me up.

I think 'Ro might've asked Catherine to help distract me from shit like the midday news, because a couple of days after they released my name, she started talking about practicing her knife throwing, just to keep her hand in it.

She and I were quite the pair—her in a cast and me with stitches in my foot. But we managed to stay entertained when our two cops were off handling security. Hell, she even taught me some magic tricks, like the one where you "disappear" from inside a sealed box. I had a blast demonstrating that one for 'Ro and 'Fei when they got back from one of their perimeter checks.

They seemed a little unhappy with my use of low-grade explosives in the trick, but Catherine assured them it was safe, and so they didn't take my toys away.

'Course, I almost blew it by teasing Heero about him being the "biggest, baddest toy" I'd ever had. His stern look had me backpedaling to make it into flirting, instead of actually implying our relationship was some sort of game.

I couldn't be that way with Heero—couldn't pretend he meant less to me than he did. And he seemed to get that the joking was just a form of, well, foreplay.

"Trowa _did _say you kind of liked a little bondage now an' then."

Jesus—the images _that _conjured! First I thought of myself stretched out on a bed and blindfolded, at 'Ro's mercy; then I thought about turning the tables and having _him _laid out for _me_.

"He wasn't kidding, was he?"

_Oh hell no!_

I'd never played bondage games with Zechs. Somehow he was always so damned dominant it would've been a waste of time for him to tie me up. And it was for sure he wouldn't have allowed himself to be put in such a vulnerable position.

But Heero? I thought he might consider it. I mean, shit. The first time we got it on, I'd held a gun on him. So I was pretty sure he could get _into _the idea of some bondage; otherwise he'd never have gotten turned on while I was holding a Glock to his kneecap.

Or maybe I was just that sexy, heh, heh…

At any rate, I could tell there was potential there. And maybe we could explore the possibilities sometime soon.

It's a wonder I could concentrate on making dinner after that train of thought. But I did. And afterwards we played some cards and hung out, talking about Cathy getting her cast off the next day. I teased Wufei about jumping out of a cake for her…would that be called a _beefcake_?

Oh, and in the middle of us goofing off and playing cards, Trowa called to share the latest news from the "let's get Duo to the trial" front. It sounded kind of like 'Ro and 'Fei's boss didn't have much of a plan. I mean "wait for the trial to start" didn't seem like a very well thought out strategy to me. But then I was just an ex-stripper, and not a big shot police captain—so what did I know, anyway?

Well, for one thing, I knew I'd feel a lot safer in a bullet-proof limo, if they could arrange to send us one. I hoped 'Ro didn't think I was joking about it, either.

Of course, after that, my mind wasn't really on the game any more. It kept wanting to circle around to the realization that there were a finite number of days before I'd have to face Khushrenada.

Needless to say, I lost that hand of cards fairly spectacularly. But when I tossed them onto the table, it occurred to me that being lucky at cards wasn't really my goal—I'd much rather be lucky at love.

That brought my mind back to Heero, and when I stood up and stretched, I felt him ease in behind me, and heard the soft intake of breath that meant he was interested. Ah, yes, cue the flirting!

And just like that, Khushrenada was forgotten, and my thoughts centered on the guy who'd not only stolen my heart, but had also given me a whole new lease on life. He was a lot more interesting than any power-hungry crime lord could ever hope to be—and he was right there at my fingertips.

Now, to get him a bit—closer.


	35. All Tied Up

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter forty six and forty seven of Witness. And I'll add a warning that this is completely **gratuitous sex**—from Duo's slightly obsessed point of view!

Chapter Thirty Five: All Tied Up

Dear Diary: Heero Yuy is a fucking God.

He freakin' let me handcuff him to the bed last night, and it was probably the most erotic sight I've ever seen.

Fuck _probably_; make that _definitely_.

I'd been teasing him since the card game ended—talking about having an itch that needed scratching, drooling over the use of words like _long _and _hot_. Hell, I finally just begged him to take me to bed.

But then in the hallway, amid the flirting and verbal foreplay, I lifted his handcuffs from his back pocket and dangled them from a finger.

"Ever been on the receiving end of these?"

His expression was priceless, as was his stammered reply. "W-what?"

I couldn't keep from raking him with a lustful gaze. "How much d'you trust me, love?"

He swallowed very hard, and I eased closer, already feeling my groin tighten with anticipation.

"You're all about control, aren't you?" I breathed, remembering the feel of him slamming me down on the hood of that car. "You like being the one in charge—the one with the authority."

Truth be told, I kinda liked him being in charge, too. I'd loved the way he'd pressed me to the floor of the cabin and tossed the gun aside—the way he'd just pinned me down and taken what he wanted.

But this time, I wanted to let him enjoy being on the receiving end. I wanted to make him feel helpless and desired—cherished and tormented.

"But you liked it when I had the gun, didn't you? When you didn't have a choice about what to do—couldn't stop what I did to you? You _loved _it."

"I loved it," he admitted breathlessly.

"—trust me now," I urged, slipping one of the cuffs around his wrist, and clicking it shut.

When I tugged him into the bedroom, he came willingly.

"Just let me do everything. Let go and enjoy."

And he did.

I let him take his shirt off before I started, knowing it'd be impossible with both his wrists chained together. But then I warned him from that moment on, I'd be the one in charge.

I slipped the chain linking the cuffs around the metal headboard rails, and secured his second wrist—and almost instantly, he let out a soft groan, wriggling his hips and tugging carefully to test the resistance of his bonds.

"Shhh—relax," I soothed, running a hand across his forehead and down his cheek. "Tonight you're on the receiving end, Yuy. An' I'm gonna make you _beg_ for release before I give it to you."

The deep blue eyes darkened with lust, and he licked his lips. "Duo—."

"Hush." I let my fingers trail slowly down his chest. "If you don't like what I'm doing, you can make me stop any time. Just say 'Chang's hot'."

"What?" he blurted, looking adorably confused for a moment. "Why not just 'stop,' for fuck's sake?"

"Because I'm gonna have you screaming for mercy, and you might slip and say 'stop' when you really want me to keep going." I smirked evilly at him. "I _know _you'd never voluntarily say the other."

"Damn straight!" he asserted.

"Chang might be, but I'm not," I assured him, leaning in to bite rather sharply at his collarbone. He flinched and hissed, his bottomless blue eyes narrowing. "Now—focus!" I chided. "No more chit-chat. I only want to hear your cries of pleasure from now on." I traced the faint teeth marks with my tongue and felt him shiver.

Like I said, Heero Yuy was just amazing in bed—and anywhere else for that matter.

Within minutes of beginning my teasing, I had him yanking against the chains and writhing in frustration when he couldn't use his hands to reciprocate. But the sweet, sexy bastard never came close to giving in. He just moaned and gasped and let me have my way with him.

I'd never tell Trowa in a million years, but that night Heero just blew away any lovers I'd ever experienced. He was so responsive and impassioned it about took my breath away.

"Oh, baby," I whispered, slipping down the zipper of his jeans and feeling the dampness already soaking through the front of his briefs. "You are _so _hot."

He opened his mouth to reply, and I laid a finger across it and shook my head. "No words!" I reminded him. "I only want inarticulate groans, lover."

He let out a suitably frustrated growl, and I tsk-ed scoldingly. "I said _groans_, not _growls_."

I slid a hand between his jeans and underwear, stroking hard enough to make him buck upwards and let slip an involuntary groan.

"That's more like it."

The heated glare he shot my way could've melted steel…but it had the opposite effect on my dick. I felt a spike of pure lust, and had to resist the urge to unchain him and beg him to fuck me.

He might've been the one chained up, but it was for damned sure _I _was the one held in thrall!

I tugged his jeans halfway down his legs, leaving them entangling his knees, and then crawled up his body, straddling his waist and unzipping my own pants, freeing an erection that was every bit as needy as his.

"Y'want this?" I asked, stroking myself within inches of his face.

In answer he lunged forward trying to wrap his lips around it—but I inched back just out of range. "Say _please_," I told him.

He hesitated, recalling my earlier instructions about talking, and then a sly look entered his eyes and he stuck his tongue out, licking the tip of my dick before I could move.

_Sweet mother of God, the guy was a tease!_

Not that I was complaining—or ever would.

I edged back so he couldn't reach me, though it took a supreme effort of will. "Uh-uh, Yuy," I chided. "That was naughty."

He smirked devilishly. "So go ahead and 'punish' me."

Even as he said it so casually, I realized he was placing his trust in me—firmly believing I'd never do anything to hurt him.

Well, at least not _really_. I fully intended to make him ache for completion before I gave it to him!

"No talking!" I scolded.

Then I leaned in and brushed my lips across his. "You are _so _in for it now, you insolent bastard."

Yeah, he was.

I slid back down his body, licking and sucking on every inch of exposed flesh, and proceeded to torment him half out of his mind. When I said I was an expert at a knee-melting blow job, I was _not _exaggerating. I could bring a guy off in less than the time it takes to say it.

But on the other hand, I could also bring a guy to the brink without ever letting him achieve release. And I did it to Heero repeatedly; every time I felt him tensing, about to come, I backed off and let him cool down, prolonging the agony as much as I could.

I had him sweating and writhing so long, I thought for sure he'd break down and beg me to finish him. I'll tell ya one thing; if his hands had been free, he'd have flung me on my back and fucked my lights out long since.

But with the cuffs firmly in place, I lifted my lips from his dick and deliberately turned my attention to his ass, giving him the rimming of a lifetime. And when he tried wrapping his jeans-entangled legs around me to force me to stay where I was, I pulled away yet again.

This time I turned my ass to him, and made him watch while I prepped myself—slowly and leisurely.

He was whining low in his throat, rocking his hips up to rub against whatever part of me he could reach, when I finally decided he'd had enough. I turned to face him on my knees, straddling his hips, and when I lowered myself onto his rock-hard, weeping erection, he nearly sobbed in relief.

While his hands were still bound, there was nothing holding his hips still, and he gave an upward thrust that nearly threw me off of him.

"Oh yeah!" I said encouragingly. "Fuck me good, baby!"

He did just that, using the amazing strength in those legs of his to just keep pounding up into me as I rocked to the motion and totally got off on the intensity of his gorgeous face, stroking myself in time to his thrusts.

It didn't take any time at all for both of us to come, me throwing my head back as I just about covered his stomach and chest—and him grunting out a satisfied oath as he shoved in as deep as he could and filled me with wet heat.

It was fuckin' awesome.

And even as I slumped forward on his chest, fumbling for the keys to the cuffs and releasing his wrists, he was already in motion, rolling and flipping me underneath him, and then attacking my neck hungrily.

"Wha—?" I managed, still coming down from my high as he was humping my leg and starting to harden again.

"—not done with you!" he snarled, intensifying his efforts. "Fuckin' tease!"

"Oooh," I groaned, feeling his fingers tracing my still-loose entrance. "I created a monster—."

He slid three fingers in without hesitation, working the relaxed muscles and driving my still-sensitive nerve endings a little crazy. I didn't know whether it was pleasure or pain I was feeling, until he was once again shoving his renewed erection into me, my legs thrown up over his shoulders and in the relentless grip of his hands.

"Jesus, Yuy," I gasped, feeling a rush of passion just from the thought of his insatiable hunger for me.

He rocked himself in deeper, giving a low growl of lust. "Gonna fuck you all night," he warned, pulling back and slamming in harder, forcing a mewl of pleasure from me. "An' then make you fuck me—."

I had no idea how he thought I was gonna muster up the strength for that by the time he finished pounding me through the mattress, but I was sure game to try.

Hell, I think it was close to sunrise before we passed out. I'd say we fell asleep; but that would imply it was voluntary. Instead, our bodies finally refused to respond, and even amid the damp, sex-soaked sheets, we succumbed to exhaustion.


	36. Wakeup Calls

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter forty six, forty seven and forty eight of Witness.

Chapter Thirty Six: Wakeup Calls

Ugh—if you don't think it was pure Hell waking up the morning after—. Especially with Catherine's too-perky voice calling out in the hallway. Lucky she didn't try sticking her head in the door, or I'd have thrown something at her.

Heero, on the other hand, actually got up and started getting ready to face another day.

I swear, I was beginning to think he was superhuman. How he could roll out of bed after our all-night fucking, I had no idea. But I was grateful he let me sleep in.

He even brought me breakfast in bed. And we very nearly ended up repeating the previous night's performance when he hand fed me and I started nibbling and sucking at his fingers.

Food can be such fun!

But Yuy was back in cop mode with his partner gone, and insisted on getting back to his security while I showered—all alone.

I was thinking I should make a list of all the things I wanted to do with Heero in the future. Food sex…showering together…shower sex, of course…sex on the beach, assuming we brought blankets and found a warmer beach than the one we'd so recently played on…more of the bondage play maybe, only with me on the receiving end…the possibilities were pretty limitless. Kinda like Heero's libido.

Have I mentioned how fuckin' lucky I was?

Anyhow, I showed my appreciation by busting my ass in the kitchen, making one of my best dinner recipes for both my protectors and the sweet little lady who'd provided us with shelter.

Yeah, Catherine deserved something special—I mean, aside from Wufei. I wanted to make her cast removal into a little bit of a party, to make up for all the extra work we'd created by coming to the farm house.

I could tell by the way Wufei snuck around getting the ingredients for the cake and delivering them to me on the sly that he was really keen on impressing Catherine as well. And he earned big points for that.

As I'd said before, she was almost like family. Considering how much she'd hated me at the start of my relationship with Trowa, it was pretty amazing that we'd ended up friends. It just proved what an open mind and big heart she had, underneath the sometimes scolding and sharp exterior.

I guess that was another thing she and Chang had in common.

Oh sure, it'd taken him awhile to open up that mind of his—but once he did, it was pretty obvious he had more compassion inside him than he readily displayed by his words and tone.

Maybe it was 'cause they'd both lost a loved one so tragically. Maybe that was why they kept a shell of reserve around them when you first got close. But once you got past it with both of them, you could find a friend worth keeping.

I cared a lot about both of 'em—though I'd probably try not to admit it to Chang except under threat of death.

Anyhow, my cake turned out great—even with Heero and me flirting in the kitchen off and on—and I got to tease the shit out of him about a little nightmare he admitted to having where 'Fei jumped out of it.

Although, the leopard print thong made me wonder if Heero wasn't hiding some subliminal attraction to Trowa I should know about…

I'd totally understand if he did—after all, I'd been attracted to that hot body and strong personality myself—at least until I had a taste of Heero.

When they got back from the doctor's, Wufei babied the hell out of Catherine, taking care of her ankle and just fuckin' doting on her like a nursemaid. It was cute as could be, and reassured me that his feelings for her were founded in genuine emotion, rather than just a superficial physical attraction.

Then he babied me, too, making me soak _my _injured foot—and I got the feeling maybe there was some real concern there for me as well. And it made me feel pretty good that I'd won over a stuffy, reserved guy like 'Fei. Just went to show the Maxwell Charm knew no bounds, right?

Ah, right.

I guess along with my charm goes a really big mouth and a tendency to joke around when I shouldn't, too; because after dinner and cake, I got a little carried away with my new, relaxed attitude around Chang and started teasing him about wearing a thong.

Funny thing is, it seemed to upset Heero more than it did Wufei. At least, that's the impression I got when he pushed away from the table and stomped out of the house.

I looked at Chang in surprise, and he just sort of sighed and shook his head, jerking a thumb in the direction his partner had gone. "Go after him, Maxwell."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I knew that something I'd said had been taken the wrong way. So I beat feet after Heero, catching up to him before he'd passed the barn.

I found myself staring down the barrel of his gun for my trouble, and resisted the urge to stick a finger in the end of it teasingly. The expression on his face told me plainly enough he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"What'd I do?" I asked simply.

He hesitated, and then made a gesture of resignation. "You didn't do anything. It was all me."

"You?"

"I—got jealous."

Jealous? What the fuck did Heero have to be jealous of? There was no one who could hold a candle to the guy! And all I'd been doing was teasing Wufei—not flirting.

"Of Chang?" I asked in frank disbelief.

"Chang…Barton…Merquise…take your pick."

Ya coulda bowled me over with a feather at that little revelation. I could not believe that a man as gorgeous and smart as Heero Yuy would be that insecure. Had no one ever told him how incredible he was? Had _I _not adequately conveyed that message to him?

Well, it was high time I fixed that little oversight.

"Jesus, 'Ro—do you even _know _how hot you are?" I asked, walking up behind him and sliding my arms around his waist. "God—there's no one but you! There could _never _be." Yup, it was time to just throw all my cards on the table and make him see that he was everything I'd ever wanted, or ever would.

"I _told _you I fell for you the first time I saw you. And when I couldn't have you, I looked everywhere for someone who even came close. Trowa was great—but he wasn't you. And Zechs—as breathtaking as he was—he was still just a shadow of what I wanted. His eyes were never as blue as yours. And he never took my breath away like you do."

"And Chang?" he asked.

I hadda laugh at that. "He's not even on the radar. For fuck's sake, he's straight, 'Ro. And even if he weren't—he still wouldn't be _you_." I tightened my grip on him. "Do you get it now?"

"Yeah, I do," he sighed, leaning back against me.

I felt a rush of relief—both at telling him plainly how much he meant to me, and at his acceptance of my confession. I made myself a solemn promise then, that I'd never let anything come between us—no silly misunderstandings, no bad attitudes, and no other person on the face of the Earth. I'd do whatever it took to keep proving to Heero that my feelings for him were real, and exclusive, and permanent. I was his, heart and soul, and I never wanted him to doubt that again.

So I reassured him the best way I knew how—by taking him to bed and worshiping his body with mine.

Even though we were in a precarious situation, where the shit could hit the fan just about any time—or maybe _because _of the situation—it felt like we had to grab any moment of respite and intimacy we could. So I spent every chance I got, from then on, demonstrating how much I loved my hot, blue-eyed detective, in every way possible.

It was a short-lived interlude, because a couple of days later the aforementioned shit hit the aforementioned fan with a great big splat!

First, Chang brought home a tabloid that was liberally plastered with not only pictures of me, but with his and 'Ro's as well. So anyone who'd seen _them _would know for sure that I was nearby. And they'd been the ones with all the public exposure lately—the ones going off to fetch groceries and supplies, taking Catherine to doctors' appointments—.

Shit—we were so fucked!

I wasn't worried about Howard ratting us out; I knew he was true blue. But there was that farmer who'd given us a ride…the clerks at places we'd stopped for gas…waitresses where we'd had meals…the fuckin' cashier at the Dunkin' Donuts where I'd dressed up like a whore, for fuck's sake!

So damned many people who might've overlooked one of us at a time were now sure to recall at least my two escorts, if not my telltale braid.

It meant our time at the circus property was at an end. Once again, we'd have to move on. It was a pattern I was learning to despise.

I wouldn't have told Heero and Wufei for the world; they didn't need to be burdened with my worries on top of their own. But I was mortally tired of finding a safe haven only to lose it within a matter of days or a week or two. I wanted the whole ordeal to be over with.

How fucked up was that? I was terrified of facing Khushrenada in the courtroom; but at the same time, I couldn't wait for the running to end. And there were only two ways it _could _end—with my death, or with my appearance at the trial.

Damned if ya do—damned if ya don't, hm?


	37. Running Out of Time

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter forty eight of Witness.

Chapter Thirty Seven: Running Out of Time

Ah, and more on the whole "shit hitting the fan" thing…

On the heels of our finding out about the tabloid photos, while we were having a big planning session (and whether they let me or not, I was thinkin' I might find a way to play with the rides at that amusement park), Trowa called.

Turns out he'd spotted a couple of suit-wearing Feds at the circus and had to cut and run himself!

Everything was pretty much spiraling out of control again, and I found myself afraid for my friends, and for my lover, and pretty much anyone else that rat-bastard Khushrenada might go after in order to flush me out.

I hated his fuckin' guts.

I mean, it's one thing to want to silence someone who's got dirt on you; but to stoop to attacking orphans, blowing up cars, shooting up homes—? That was just outrageous. I wanted to march myself into Khushrenada's office and fuckin' tell him what a loathsome asshole he really was.

But maybe that's what he wanted—to goad me into rash action.

Fuck, I've never needed goading to take rash action. It's kinda my middle name—or my modus operandi, if you will. I'm the king of spontaneity.

But even I'm not stupid enough to walk into a trap like Khushrenada was trying to build. Nope. No way in Hell.

Going after him alone would be sheer suicide, and I had way too much to live for!

I was gonna trust 'Ro and 'Fei to keep all three of us alive long enough to bring Khushrenada down the legal way. (Though if I thought I could've gotten away with sneaking in and slitting the guy's throat in his sleep…I might've been sorely tempted.)

Anyhow—Heero headed off to town, while Wufei and Catherine and I started making preparations to leave.

I decided to give Chang and the girl a little alone time, and told 'em I was headed out to the barn for a few odds and ends we might need while camping. (Yes, back to dodging bear and moose, dammit! But at least _they _fought fair, unlike Khushrenada's goons.)

As I was gathering up some twine and shit, I noticed the gunpowder and explosive stuff in the bins under the work bench. And it struck me that we might just have need of something along those lines. I mean, even if we didn't need it for the bad guys, maybe we could use it to scare off a marauding moose. Or even a boorish bear, hm?

Now, back when I was with the Reapers, we'd done a bit of dabbling in that sort of stuff. I mean, it doesn't take rocket science to make a Molotov cocktail, y'know? And yeah, I'd thrown a few in my time, when we were at odds with other gangs and looking to stir things up. I was no saint, that's for sure.

At any rate, I put my ill-gotten education to a slightly better use, quickly looking over the ingredients at hand, and rummaging through some drawers to find adequate props. Turns out those circus folks used quite a range of explosive devices in their special effects and magic tricks. And Cathy and I had spent enough time playing around in the barn and working on her knife-throwing that I'd had time to tinker before and make some slightly more potent versions of the magic smoke trick.

But this time I wanted something substantial. I wasn't sure how much it'd take to scare off or blow up a moose, (I mean, just how big _are _those suckers?) so I did my measuring and mixing with as much care and caution as I could under the circumstances, selecting stuff that wouldn't be a hazard to cart along in a backpack—but that could be triggered when needed.

I found the perfect "vehicle" in the form of some of those silly balls that have a battery and speaker inside—they make noise when moved or shaken, and dogs just love 'em. I took out the noise-making parts and replaced them with my explosive mixture, and then rigged it so that about twenty seconds after you turned it on, it'd short out and set off the explosives.

And they were more potent than the simple flash-bangs that the magicians used; there was enough power in one of them to take out anyone within a ten or fifteen-foot radius. Not exactly high explosives, but certainly enough to slow down the bad guys we were almost certain to encounter, assuming I hadn't used them all up on four-legged monsters.

I didn't limit myself though. I threw together several of the smoke bombs used in the disappearing act, in case we needed to do some disappearing of our own. And then I started to put some spare explosive powder in some baggies, for emergencies.

Hell, my whole life was a fuckin' emergency these days!

I was so caught up in my mixing and measuring that I didn't hear anyone enter the barn until Chang's voice spoke up suddenly from right behind me.

"What _are _you doing, Maxwell?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, sending gunpowder scattering in about fifty directions. "Jeezus, Chang! Give a guy a heart attack, why doncha?"

I turned an accusing gaze on him, and he smirked unrepentantly. "I repeat—what are you doing that makes you so very jumpy?"

"Nothin'!" I growled, stuffing my illicit booty into the duffel bag, and turning around and brushing off my hands.

He eyed me skeptically, a keen gaze running over the containers I'd lined up on the workbench. "Doesn't look like 'nothing,'" he noted. "Are you fooling around with magic tricks while we're supposed to be readying ourselves to leave?"

Rather than explain my rationale, I let him think I was more or less goofing off. "I got the twine and duct tape an' stuff—figured I might bring a smoke-bomb or two as well," I told him.

He gave a shrug, turning his attention to Catherine, who'd walked in behind him. "Just make sure you don't cause a fire hazard," he cautioned.

"Chang-baby," I teased. "I _am _a fire hazard. Why I've been told my body's so damned _hot_, it should be listed as a dangerous weapon—."

Catherine laughed aloud, shaking her head. "Want me to make him disappear again, Wufei?"

"I wish," he sighed. "But unfortunately, we need him now more than ever."

The pretty little circus girl grinned wickedly at him, picking up one of the knives from her act and tossing it into the air, catching it in a well-rehearsed move. "I could just scare him a bit—," she mused.

"I'm not afraid of you," I shot back defiantly.

"No, you've seen how precise I am, haven't you?" she acknowledged.

"Chang hasn't," I pointed out, thinking maybe I could give her a chance to show off her talents a bit, and cinch her place in Chang's heart; if he hadn't been interested in her before, he would be after he saw how very competent she was with a blade.

I walked over to stand against the backboard she used for her practice. "C'mon, Cath! Part my hair for me," I challenged.

"No!" Wufei said sharply, stepping between us and heading my way. "Maxwell, you are _not _to play fast and loose with your life!"

"I'm not," I insisted. "She's awesome, Wufei. She never misses!"

"There's no such thing as 'never,'" he insisted.

Catherine's eyes flashed indignantly. "I beg to differ!" she called out hotly. "Like Duo says, I never miss."

Realizing he'd inadvertently insulted her skills, Chang turned and tried for some quick damage control. "I'm not saying you do—or would—," he sputtered. "But you must understand, taking even a one in a million chance with Maxwell's safety at this juncture would be foolish—negligent of me, even. Yuy would have my head if he found out, and rightly so."

"Aw, let her throw just one," I urged, wanting him to see how impressive she was. "She can go for an arm or something—nowhere near a fatal shot if she misses—which she won't!"

Dark eyes turned a stormy look my way. "You're a protected witness, Maxwell. I can't allow such nonsense, even if I know the risk is minimal."

"C'mon—I'll give you twenty bucks if she so much as nicks me—." I glared back at him. "You sayin' you don't trust her, 'Fei?"

It was beginning to annoy me that he wouldn't take a little leap of faith and prove to Catherine that he believed in her ablilities.

He fumbled for a response, knowing that he might alienate her if he refused. "If it were _my _life, I'd gladly place it in her hands. But you are too important to too many people for such foolishness."

"Fine then," I grumbled. "_You_ do it then. You go stand by the target and let her throw one. Prove that you believe she's as good as we both say she is!"

Chang eyed the back board warily, and I couldn't really blame him. It's a pretty big leap of faith to trust someone's aim to the degree we were talkin' about. If I hadn't posed as Cathy's target before, I wouldn't have been so confident.

"I see no reason to—," Wufei began.

"You mean you don't have the _balls _to," I countered, shaking my head. "Big, tough cop, hm?"

"I have nothing to prove to you," he snarled.

"No, but you should prove it to Catherine," I retorted. "You said if it were your life, you'd place it in her hands. So put up or shut up! Prove you aren't a pansy-ass chicken and that you trust her aim!"

"Duo," Catherine cut in, casting a concerned look towards the simmering Chinese man. "You're not being fair. He doesn't have to pro—."

But Wufei cut her off, scowling darkly at me. "Fine! And you'll owe me twenty bucks when this is over!" He stalked across to push me aside and take my place against the back board.

I grinned triumphantly at Catherine and took a seat along the side of the practice space. "Have at 'im, Cath!" I urged, eager to see her in action.

The spunky circus girl took her mark, idly hefting the knife and testing its balance. I thought I saw a flicker of concern in her eyes, but then they gleamed with steely resolve, and she raised her hand to take aim.

I caught a glimpse of the barn door behind her opening, but was too focused on the determined and scared-shitless expression on Chang's face to look over.

The blade flew end over end in a smooth arc, and embedded itself alongside Wufei's shoulder, close enough for him to have felt the air of its passing.

"Yes!" I hissed in satisfaction. Granted, I'd lost twenty bucks—but seeing Chang so close to shitting his pants was well worth it.

Um, although, when Heero came storming in and chewed us all out for playing around like that, I kind of reconsidered a bit. He was really upset. Seems he thought his partner was really about to die for a second there, and didn't like the momentary panic it caused.

Hell, if we'd known he'd be getting back just then, we'd never have played the little power game. But it was all in good fun—really.

Fun that ended the instant Heero told us there were FBI agents in town sniffing around for us.


	38. Rabid Moose

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter forty nine of Witness.

Chapter Thirty Eight: Rabid Moose

Seemed like it didn't take any time at all between Heero's news about the Feds, and him, Chang and I setting out on foot yet again.

There were a couple of noteworthy differences from the last two times. First, we weren't actually being shot at, which was very helpful, if not particularly reassuring.

Secondly, I was better equipped for this cross country trek—with boots meant for rugged hiking, and more realistic expectations of what we'd have to face.

And lastly, we were leaving behind a safe haven that was still intact, and a woman we'd all be worried about until she got herself off somewhere else.

It kinda tugged at my heartstrings when Chang and Catherine said their goodbye. Even though I wanted to tease the shit out of the prudish cop, I couldn't really indulge. His vulnerability was too touching.

Equally touching was Catherine's kind gesture of including tea for Wufei and knives for me in our baggage.

She was a hot ticket all right—a woman as calm and quick-thinking under pressure as she was on a daily basis. And I told her what a doll she was when 'Ro let us dare a phone call back to the farmhouse.

I also found myself grinning irrepressibly at the way Heero's stuffy partner's voice went all warm and husky when he talked to her. Yeah, he had it bad. And it couldn't have happened to a more deserving guy.

I mean, Wufei was a truly hot guy—smart and ambitious, if a bit haunted. He deserved the attention of an equally intelligent woman—and even I could see that he was seriously in need of some loving care.

It seemed like Catherine was eager to deliver that care.

Lady-killer, indeed! Chang was going to have his hands full, unless I missed my guess.

Moving right along with the story, though…

I saw a moose!

And fuck if it wasn't more intimidating than a chubby-looking mama bear with cubs. It was freakin' _huge_. Monstrous. And ugly as sin.

Seriously, it looked like it was made of spare parts or something—with these gawky long legs and a face even a mother couldn't love.

After the teasing the gang had given me back at the farmhouse, I was properly intimidated by the big lug. If it hadn't been for Yuy's death grip on me, I'd probably have run like hell—all the way back to the nice, sturdy place we'd left behind.

Khushrenada's hit men had nothing on fifteen-hundred pounds of moose, I'll tell ya! And I totally forgot about trying to blow one up. There was no _way _I was gettin' close enough to toss a bomb at it.

Anyhow, we survived the encounter, since we didn't actually get so close that the monster felt like making paste out of us. But the rest of our hike, I was pretty much twitchy and tense, looking around non-stop to see if Bullwinkle had any buddies in the area. Rabid ones.

Hey, I've said before I don't know much about nature. But I do know that all mammals can get rabies. And think about it—if a rabid wolf attacked a moose and the moose stomped him into a spot on the ground, the moose still might've been bitten and exposed to the virus, right?

Okay—yeah—I should just drop that whole train of thought and get back to the story.

The third and final day of our hike, the sky opened up on us and it rained like hell. An' I'm not talkin' cats and dogs—more like mooses and bears—heh, heh.

We found the amusement park just in time. I was starting to think we oughtta lash a few logs together and start makin' a raft.

But instead, we reached our haven, such as it was, and I picked the lock on the gate to let us in.

Of course, Chang pointed out we were breaking and entering, but my flippant comment that it was what I was best at seemed to shut him up. Besides, considering our situation, it was likely we'd be breaking a few more laws along the way. Good thing I had lots of practice at it, hm?

We took shelter in a dormitory, and actually had heat, lights, and musty old mattresses to sleep on. Not the worst place I'd ever spent a night.

And with Heero curled up next to me in bed, it was definitely not the worst _way _I'd ever spent a night. In fact, his warm, reassuring presence was probably the only thing that enabled me to fall asleep. Without him, I'd have been obsessing about who was coming for us the next day, and whether the bad guys would get wind of the pickup and crash our party.

Instead, I held close to my heart the fact that Trowa had gone into hiding with the orphans, safely out of Khushrenada's reach, while Quatre was secure in his mansion with servants and security galore. And I held Heero even closer than that, feeling his love like a calming blanket wrapped as tightly around me as his arms.

It was one of the most restful nights of sleep I'd ever gotten.

Good thing, too, since morning brought with it a million things to do, and even more things to worry about.

I woke to see Heero cleaning his gun, and after a little flirting about stroking barrels and lubricating hammers (oh baby!) we got down to business.

Heero fitted me with two guns, one in my jacket pocket and the other in a shoulder holster, and then we set about exploring the whole amusement park.

Damn, the place was awesome. I wished I'd been there under any other circumstances than these. There was a 'coaster that looked like it'd make even the toughest stomach lose its lunch. Then there were themed rides, like a House of Horrors and Tunnel of Love and shit. (Yeah, I'd have liked to get Yuy onto that last ride; I'd show him a _tunnel _he could _love_...) Aside from the rides, there were about a million booths that would've been set up for games of chance if the park were up and running.

Might've been nice to take the orphans there for a real day of fun. But I didn't harbor any illusions; I was probably never gonna have that chance.

Maybe I could at least suggest it to Trowa, if I got to see him during the trial an' all.

Anyhow, our tour of the park was short and sweet. We scoped out the terrain and discussed possible plans in case the wrong folks showed up at the rendezvous. Mostly we were gonna have to wing it, since we had no idea how many enemies might get wind of our location—if any.

God, I hoped that for once we got a break and things went according to plan.

I was a nervous wreck by the time eleven o'clock rolled around and we got ready by the main gate.

We stashed our gear near the entrance booth, and I stuffed my pockets with my smoke bombs and the bigger "ball bombs" I'd had time to make, hoping beyond hope that I wouldn't need either.

Then Heero made some cute comment about my upcoming limo ride and I sort of snapped at him, realizing for the first time just how totally terrified I was.

"Sorry. I'm just—."

"Scared," he finished for me, his eyes warm with understanding and reassurance. "It'll be okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

"What about you?" I said back.

Yeah, at that point I'd worked my way from worrying about my own sorry ass to worrying about his—and Chang's. I couldn't imagine trying to tell Catherine that another man she loved had died—protecting _me_. God, I'd just die if it came to that. If I had to break Catherine's heart—.

And worse—if anything happened to Heero—I already knew I'd have nothing to live for. Yeah, I knew I had Trowa and all—but Heero was more precious to me than anything in the world. His survival was the most important thing.

"God, you really _are_ scared," he breathed as I wrapped my arms around him and he felt the pounding of my heart against his.

"Only of losing you."

"You won't."

And then Wufei made a comment about opening up on the bad guys if things didn't go according to plan, and I realized that he and Heero no longer gave a shit about rules and regulations; they were all about survival—ours.

It surprised me, even as it gave me renewed confidence.

"C'mon, Maxwell," Heero chided. "We've been dodging bullets for weeks. You expect us to get sloppy now?"

"I just didn't expect you to be so—ruthless."

"This isn't a game. They've been ruthless, and now it's our turn."

Chang chimed in with, "Might be nice to be the ones on the offensive for a change, hm?"

"Shit, yeah!" I agreed.

He gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Stay out of sight, Maxwell. And do as we say. We'll get through this together."

The conviction in his voice made me believe him. We _would _get through it.

Then Heero sent me off to take cover behind the ticket booth, and got into position by the main gate, his binoculars trained on the road leading into the park—and we waited.

And waited.

And just when I was shifting restlessly in the cramped shelter, I heard my lover mutter "Showtime."


	39. And Hit Men

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter fifty of Witness.

Chapter Thirty Nine: And Hit Men

I peeked out to see a long, sleek limo making its way up the gravel drive, and Heero tucked his rifle into the crook of an arm, waving to the driver. The car pulled up and stopped, and a man got out of the passenger side.

"Identify yourself!" Heero barked out sharply.

I knew right then that things hadn't gone according to plan; Heero was supposed to be able to recognize the man on sight, and he obviously didn't.

"Captain Po sent us! We're here to pick up Maxwell."

"Who the hell are you?"

Shit—if Heero had to ask that, we were totally fucked.

"Agent Sims—FBI."

Fuck!

I nearly bolted right then, my survival instincts kicking in big-time. There was no way in Hell I was gonna let Heero turn me over to a bunch of Feds. Zechs had told me too much about Khushrenada's influence on the Bureau. Surely Heero wouldn't trust these goons?

"Wrong answer!" Heero snapped, and I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a bit silly for ever thinking he'd be fooled by their smooth lies.

"Don't be hasty. We've got someone here who'd like to see you."

They dragged Catherine out of the back seat of the limo, trussed up in duct tape, and I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut. "Jesus!"

I was up and running for the gate before I knew what I was doing, and only Heero's quick grab prevented me from getting past him. "Don't! Duo—you can't!"

"Cathy—."

"Going out there won't help her. Wait."

Heero's firm grip around my waist and the urgency in his voice kept me still, but I glared over his shoulder at the guy who called himself Sims. "What do you fuckers want?"

"Why—_you_, of course. Duo Maxwell, I presume?"

"Let her go!" I yelled. "She's not part of this."

I knew damned well he wasn't going to do as I said, but I couldn't help it. I'd have fuckin' begged on hands and knees if I thought it'd help Catherine.

"Jesus, Duo, let me handle this!" Heero hissed in an undertone.

I gave up struggling against him at that point, and took a step back. "Heero—we can't let them hurt her."

"We won't."

Yeah, but how could we stop it?

I knew Trowa would kill me if anything happened to Catherine—not to mention what I'd want to do to myself. There was no way I could let that girl die for me. She was completely innocent. Hell, she'd never even met Zechs Merquise, or anyone connected with his sordid underworld; she didn't deserve to be dragged into this mess. And it was all my fault.

"You know I can't hand Maxwell over," Heero told Sims, his voice filled with determination.

"Ah—you'd better rethink that answer. Or this little lady could end up very, very dead."

_Jesus Christ! _It took a major effort for me to remain still and let Heero keep negotiating. I wanted to run out there and trade myself for Catherine on the spot. If I thought they'd go through with such an exchange, even Heero couldn't have held me back. But I knew they were lying, and that once all the cards were in their hands, we'd all end up dead.

And that meant Heero, too.

So I waited to see what he could salvage of the situation. I don't think I ever trusted anyone so completely. It was one thing to put _my _life in Heero's hands—but now I had to trust him with the lives of my friends, which was even harder.

But it was _Heero_. Only Heero could have made me place the fate of my friends in his hands. I knew if they were important to me, he'd protect them like they were his own.

God, I fuckin' loved that man—and I was gonna say it to him, first chance I got.

"I give you my word, we won't harm Maxwell," Sims was saying.

"Your word doesn't mean shit! Your boss wants him silenced permanently. I doubt you'll even let him get as far as the limo before you put a bullet in his brain."

Ew—did he have to be quite so graphic? A brief image of Zechs' messy demise flashed across my mind. I did _not _want to end up like that, any more than I wanted Catherine to.

"You've already tried twice," Heero pointed out to the men at the limo.

"Plans have changed. Our boss wants to talk to him—about some missing property."

_Say what?_

Heero glanced at me, and I shook my head. I had no idea what they were talking about.

"Nice try."

"I'm telling you—our boss just wants to talk to the whore."

And there we were, back to the same old insult. I freakin' _hated_ being called that!

"He's got something the boss wants."

"Duo?"

I looked blankly at Heero. "I have no idea what they're talking about. I never took anything from Khushrenada. Unless he's looking for a piece of ass, I can't think of anything I have that he might be remotely interested in."

Heero did a double-take, looking questioningly at me. "Khushrenada's gay?"

"That or bi, maybe," I shrugged. "I just know Zechs went out of his way to keep me away from him—acted like he was jealous."

Yeah, that was an understatement. Zechs had been furious the one time Khushrenada sent me flowers—and he'd gone over-the-top ballistic when his boss sent me an expensive watch as a gift. Long story there—but I'd assumed it had to be from Zechs, since no one else would've given me such a pricey gift—or so I thought. Zechs had taken the watch and stormed off to deal with Kushrenada, and that had been the last I heard on the matter.

"Is it possible Merquise had something of Khushrenada's?" Heero interrupted my wandering train of thought.

"Jesus, Yuy—I don't know!" I blurted, more concerned with Catherine's precarious situation than the dynamics of Zechs' and Treize's partnership.

"Time's running out!" Sims warned, gesturing to his goon, who jerked on Catherine's arms, making her squeal in anger and pain. She kicked at the guy's ankles and he stumbled back a step, then smacked the side of her head and put a gun to her temple.

"Stop it!" I cried, trying to get past Heero again. "Take your fuckin' hands off her!"

"Come out here, Maxwell, and we'll let the girl go."

"'Ro—."

"You know they're lying!" he snapped.

"I don't care! I can't stand here and let them hurt her!"

"I have conditions!" Heero called to the men.

He spent a couple of minutes in negotiations, getting them to agree to throw down their guns and let Catherine start walking towards me the minute I headed their way. But I was busy trying to formulate a plan of my own.

I still had pockets full of explosives. And while I didn't relish the idea of taking myself out along with my captors, I considered it as a last option.

Short of that, I was wondering if there was a way I could set off a smoke bomb and escape in the confusion. I'd probably have to do it before they had a chance to frisk me. But I'd need to be sure Catherine had gotten far enough away to complete _her _escape.

"I want you to take me along with Duo—so I can see for myself he's not harmed."

I jolted back to awareness when Heero said that. "No!" I snarled, pulling away from him. "Damn it, Heero—no! You are not going out there with me!"

I was not about to let him put himself in the line of fire—those FBI agents wouldn't hesitate to "off" him the instant they had me within reach.

"I'm not going to just hand you over."

"You don't have a choice. It's _my _choice. My life," I told him. "How will you rescue me if you're their prisoner too?"

"If I walk out there with you, I'll be close enough for a clean shot when they go for their guns. You know they've got them concealed; do you think there's a chance in Hell they won't kill you the instant they have you?"

No, I wasn't that naïve. "I'm hoping they'll hesitate just long enough."

"Long enough for what?"

I patted one of my bulging pockets. "Magic, Yuy. Magic."

His eyes widened, and I saw comprehension dawn. "I thought you stuffed protein bars in your pockets!"

"At a time like this? Give me a little credit, love. If it doesn't shoot, cut, or blow up—it's of no use to me right now." I gave him my cheekiest grin, feeling the beginnings of an adrenaline rush as I imagined the surprise on Sims' face when I let loose with a smoke bomb or two.

"God, I fuckin' love you," Heero breathed, giving me a look that under other circumstances would've made my knees go weak.

But there was no time for romance right then, and I turned my attention back to our enemies, who were yelling for us to hurry up. "Keep yer shorts on! You'll get what you want—when I'm damned good and ready."

I wanted to keep them guessing—to make them believe I thought I had the upper hand. They'd think I was cocky and unwary, and that would give me an edge when I needed it. Or so I hoped.

"Yuy's not coming with me. I'll come alone. But I want your word that no one will get hurt! You'll let the others go."

"No one will get hurt," Sims called out irritably. "We just want you. Come along peacefully, and there's no reason for any violence."

_Yeah. As if!_

"It's a deal then," I told them, lying through my teeth. Then I gave Heero a long look, savoring the warmth and concern in those deep blue eyes. "When I get over there, I'm going to try my disappearing trick. You be ready?"

"I will. Chang too." Heero made some sort of hand signal, alerting his partner, and then smiled tightly at me. "You know Sims was lying, right? You watch those guys—and when they go for a weapon, you _move_. Understood?"

"Completely." And I did.

This was a matter of life and death, and it all hinged on my bomb-making skills, and how well I could play my audience. And they _were _an audience. When I walked out there in front of those FBI guys, I'd be playing it up for all I was worth, putting on the performance of a lifetime.

I had to look overconfident—as if I believed their phony promises. And I needed them to believe I was nothing more than a cheap piece of ass—someone without brains or skills. I didn't think they'd be too hard to convince. After all, they saw me as Zechs' whore, didn't they? Someone who'd been a bed warmer—not an equal.

Well, they were about to get a big, fat dose of reality.

I straightened up, tossing my braid over my shoulder and tilting my head contemptuously. "Hey, fuckheads—I'm gonna come over there as soon as I see Cathy free and on her way here!"

They released Catherine and I had to grin as she turned and punched the guy who'd been manhandling her. She was a trooper all right.

When she headed our way, I threw a wink and a grin at Heero, hoping he couldn't see the stark terror in my eyes—and I began walking slowly towards our enemies.

I ignored their yells to pick up the pace, busy mapping out my escape route, and trying to ensure that we were closer to Heero than to the limo when Catherine and I crossed paths.

There was an open area around the limo, but I noticed that the fence around the park was only about fifty feet away. If I could stun the FBI agents with a smoke bomb—or maybe even a real one—I could probably get to it before they recovered. It was only about eight feet tall, and if I got a running start and jumped, I could easily catch the top and vault over. Then I'd just have to make my way back to Heero so we could switch to our fallback plan and hide out in the park.

Catherine threw herself into my arms when we came abreast of each other. "Duo—they'll kill you!" she whispered urgently. "You should've heard the things they said on the way up here!"

"Shh!" I replied firmly, wrapping my arms around her so I could deposit a smoke bomb in her pocket. "The second I reach the limo, use this," I told her, pretending to kiss her cheek. "It'll cover you while you run like hell to where Heero is."

She pulled back running her hands down my arms as she released me, and smiling viciously when she felt the concealed knives up each sleeve.

Shit—I'd almost forgotten those—not to mention my switchblade. When I resumed my walk towards the limo, I rubbed both hands across my hip pockets, as if wiping sweaty palms on it. But in reality, I was palming my switchblade with one hand, and a smoke bomb with the other.

The Feds were about to get their asses handed to them, Maxwell-style.


	40. Amusements

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter fifty of Witness.

Chapter Forty: Amusements

Fucking Feds! I said they all were crooks and liars, and Sims just proved me right; he didn't even wait until I was at the limo, but stepped out to meet me, grabbing a wrist and yanking me towards the car. "Get him in the back! And kill the cops and the girl!"

"Lying _shit_!" I snarled, unsurprised at the betrayal.

And then I swung with my free arm, slamming the switchblade up under his ribs, and diving into the back seat of the limo without pausing to see how much damage I'd done.

There was a startled oath from the guy on the far side of the limo, and he grabbed for a gun and started to climb in to keep me from going out the other door. But I had other ideas, and slammed a smoke bomb down on the floor, coughing at the pungent burst of gunpowder and ash.

I couldn't see what I was doing then, having closed my eyes to protect them from the worst of the smoke. But I could feel one of my ball-bombs in my pocket, and took a second to punch the trigger button and drop it onto the floor.

Then I was scrambling out the far side, squinting my eyes open enough to shove a coughing agent out of my way so I could make a run for it. I sure as hell didn't want to stick around to see if I'd measured my ingredients right!

As soon as I was in clear air, I was able to orient myself and dash for the stockade fence.

It fuckin' felt like there was a bull's eye on my back as I ran, and I half expected to feel a bullet reach its target before I reached my goal. God knew I could hear the volley of shots ringing out over the pounding of my feet. But then I was at the fence, and leaping to catch hold of the top and somersault over it.

I let out a sharp whistle as I did so, hoping to catch Heero's attention, if he wasn't too occupied shooting bad guys. My best hope lay in reuniting with my protectors.

I landed hard on the inside of the fence, glancing left and right and then sprinting towards the main gate. When I whipped around the corner, I nearly collided with Heero.

He told me he'd sent Catherine to Wufei for safekeeping, and that he and I needed to seek cover. I opened my mouth to say "no shit," but he yanked me close and stole a quick kiss. "We need a distraction. The bastards will be calling for reinforcement—."

The sound of an explosion made him jerk around in surprise. "What was that?"

"A distraction?" I smirked, giving him my most devilish wink.

"You made a fucking _bomb_?"

"Hey—Cathy had all the raw ingredients!" I babbled. "And I wasn't sure smoke and mirrors would be enough, considering where we were going. I was actually thinking of the moose when I made the first one—."

He pulled me into his arms and kissed me hard. "You're fuckin' amazing, Maxwell!"

Awww—if that was all it took to impress him, I decided I'd make it a point to blow something else up soon.

Of course, I didn't have time to dwell on it, as we ended up running for our lives again, sprinting between closed-up booths to find a place to hide while Chang apparently executed some master plan he and 'Ro had cooked up.

We ended up squeezed in between two walls, Heero in front and me pressed up against his back, trying to catch my breath without panting loudly enough to be heard by the two goons talking back and forth in the alleyway.

The Feds, for all their incompetence, had been savvy enough to call for backup, and so we had pursuit on our heels from the original crew, and more to worry about in the near future. If we only knew how _many_ more, it would've been a big help, but we had no such luck.

It didn't matter much anyway, as we could hear one stalker nearing our position. If he spotted us, the Feds' backup would be the least of our immediate worries.

I slid a throwing knife free and offered it to Heero, hoping he could take the guy out in silence; but he shook his head and pressed the knife back into my hand.

"Think you can hit him from here?" he whispered.

Fuck—I had no idea. I mean, Cathy and I had played at target practice, and I had excellent aim. But I wasn't sure I could keep my hand steady enough with everything riding on a single throw.

I nodded anyway, and Heero switched our positions, putting me slightly in front, so I had a clear shot at our pursuer. When the guy drew even with our hiding place, I balanced the blade in my hand, the way Cathy had taught me, and just before I let fly, I coughed out loud to get the bastard to look our way and present a target.

He did, and when I threw the knife, it took him squarely in the throat. He dropped his gun and went to his knees, clutching at his neck and making a sort of gurgling sound before falling face down and going still.

I felt a rush of relief, followed closely by a rush of nausea. My hand was shaking like a leaf as I drew it across my face.

"You okay?"

I glanced back at Heero, hoping I wasn't as pale as I felt. "I—never killed anybody before," I admitted.

And I'd done it twice in under ten minutes—first Sims, and now this guy. Not only that, I'd killed them in front of cops—the ultimate eye-witnesses. There was a time that fact would've had me shaking in my boots. But this time, the cops were on my side. They were my allies, instead of my greatest fear.

Heero pulled me close, his warmth helping to soothe away my sudden attack of nerves. "Try not to think about it now, love. We've got a long way to go to get out of here."

If I'd had more time to dwell on it, I might've fallen apart, but I pulled myself together, just for Heero. He needed me at my best—but then with him, I always was.

We'd resumed our jog down the alleyway, when all the rides and machinery started up, and music began blasting from a speaker.

"Phase one complete," came Chang's voice over the loudspeakers.

"What's that mean?" I asked.

Heero gave me the short version of the explanation—Chang had powered up the rides to provide cover noise as well as movement to conceal our flight through the park. Smart move! And if there was a phase one—I hoped there was a phase two. We needed all the help we could get.

Shit, at that point, I'd have settled for any advantage at all; we had no idea how many Feds we were up against, or how many more were on the way, and I was beginning to get a seriously bad feeling about the whole thing.

I hid it from Heero, putting on my best tough-guy act when he talked about turning the tables on our pursuers. But while we were deciding whether to hide out in the Tunnel of Love, or the House of Horrors (guess which I'd have chosen, under better circumstances), we heard a shout that meant we'd been spotted.

"Horrors," I blurted, grabbing Heero's wrist and tugging him towards the dark, scary ride. "There'll be wax dummies," I pointed out, hoping the guys chasing us might be distracted by them.

Heero seemed to agree, and we raced into the darkness, groping our way down a pitch black hallway. I felt a hand catch at my belt loop, keeping us close, and couldn't resist a quick joke.

"At a time like this?"

"Any time, any place, Maxwell."

Hot damn, I loved that guy! Here we were literally running for our lives, and he could still tease me about making out in the dark. I wanted him so badly!

I wanted us to get through this ordeal, get the trial over with, and find the light at the end of the tunnel. But for the moment, I'd have settled for finding the way through the House of Horrors, and out to the daylight on the other side.

Heero helped with that, by pulling out a small flashlight to speed us on our way, and I tried to be just as together, following his orders without question, and staying alert to the danger behind us.

We made it to the carts that carried passengers through the ride, and dove into one, already hearing the sound of voices behind us.

Hell, I wish I could've really enjoyed that ride, but with certain death nipping at our heels, there was just no time to take in the scenery. We'd barely gotten to heckle the introductory narrative given by a disembodied voice, when our cart careened down a steep incline, leaving us hanging on for dear life.

It was a fast ride—up until we reached the first exhibit along the way—a chainsaw murder scene that was so blatantly fake, it couldn't have scared a feeble granny. I looked at the chainsaw, wondering briefly if it was real and functional, but decided it was nothing more than a prop—useless to us.

But at least I still had one real bomb and a smoke bomb tucked away, and I shared that tidbit with 'Ro, so he'd have a little heads up if it came down to me using them.

Fuck—maybe I should've blown up the tracks behind us. But the thought didn't occur to me right then, and by the time it did, it was too late.

Chang had called out a warning that we had two or three guys chasing us on the ride, as well as several more arriving at the park in an SUV, just before there was a ruckus on his end of the microphone and he went off the air.

I felt a jolt in my gut that had nothing to do with the bumpy ride of the cart, and Heero said he figured Chang and Catherine had to give up the control room and run for it. So, basically, we were on our own.

I dunno what gave me the crazy idea to draw in our pursuers by playing possum. But they were shooting at us by then, and frankly, I was scared shitless that they'd get lucky. I was desperate to reduce their numbers, and the only way to do that was to take them by surprise.

So I talked 'Ro into letting me play the dummy in the next exhibit, and while I lured in the bad guys, he was able to get the drop on them and take two out.

If only we'd known there were three…

It was like a horrible nightmare when that last guy came out of nowhere, taking aim at us. And even as I grabbed for a gun, Heero was grabbing for me—shielding me with his own body while I shot over his shoulder.

I never saw if my wild shot hit home, because Heero sank to his knees on the floor of that cart, dragging me along with him; and when I pulled back, my eyes went straight to the spreading red stain on the front of his shirt.

_Jesus fucking Christ!_


	41. End of the Line

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter fifty one of Witness.

Chapter Forty One: End of the Line

I can't remember much of the conversation Heero and I had in that jouncing, careening cart. I was too panicked by the way the blood was soaking his shirt and color was draining from his face.

I know I asked him why the fuck he'd taken a bullet for me, and when he gave me a chiding reply of "told you I'd do anything for you," I hugged him so tight he nearly passed out from the pain.

"Shit. Sorry," I told him, my hands shaking like leaves as I tried to press a wadded up piece of shirt against the wound to stop the bleeding.

"I'm not gonna die," he said firmly.

Then he scared me even worse by getting a faraway look in his eyes, and sort of zoning out on me. I slapped his face, to try to keep him conscious, and got thoroughly chewed out for it.

"I was thinking! Next time just—say my _name _or something!"

I almost laughed out loud at that, feeling a rush of relief, and hoping that if he was ornery enough to scold me, it meant he was going to be okay after all.

"Think so," he agreed. "Probably. If you quit smacking me around."

So instead of "smacking him around," I pulled him carefully against me and kissed the living shit out of him. "Don't even think about dying, Yuy. I can't live without you."

"Yeah—same here." Then he looked past me and said, "Showtime." He pulled me down beside him. "Stay low."

Sadly, I'd sort of forgotten that at the end of that wild ride, there'd be bad guys waiting for us. But when the cart sailed over a series of neck-snapping bumps and jerked to a stop, I knew we were fucked.

"Ride's over. Toss your weapons out and put your hands behind your heads."

I dunno what got into me then, except I was royally pissed that Heero was hurt and these goons were about to kill us both. We'd come so far, it just mad me spitting mad that it would end this way.

"Fuck you!" I glared past the gun the man was holding, right into his eyes. "He's hurt. He can't raise his hands!"

Instead of pulling the trigger, the man looked over at Heero. "Detective Yuy, I presume?"

Heero looked at the three men holding weapons on us, and tossed his gun aside.

And the fact that we were both still breathing made me wonder if that bullshit about taking me alive might've been true after all, so I threw my gun after 'Ro's.

But then I stepped between him and the leader of our captors. "I'll tell you right now, asshole—you kill him and you'll have to kill me too."

I was running a pathetically weak bluff. If Khushrenada hadn't really ordered them to bring me to him alive, I was about to precede Heero into the afterlife by at least a second or two.

"Well—didn't take you long to replace Merquise, did it?"

Oh fuck. I'd just more or less admitted that Heero and I were lovers. I'd essentially handed complete leverage to our captors.

_Fuck!_

I backpedaled pretty damn fast after that, putting on the nonchalant act and pointing out that Heero was fuckably gorgeous, and who wouldn't fuck a cop who looked like that? I dunno if they bought it, but talking about sex seemed to draw their attention back to me, which was a good thing.

I saw the gleam in their leader's eyes, as he gave me the once over. "Talk about a waste—."

Then he was snapping out orders for his goons to tie us up, and heading off to fetch the car.

I figured it was all over for us about then. If Chang didn't know we'd been apprehended, or wasn't able to come to our rescue, we had almost no chance of escape; Heero was wounded, and I was about to be trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

"What 'n Hell's this?"

I came out of my unhappy musings to realize one of the guys had pulled the little ball bomb from my pocket when he frisked me. His buddy was already wrapping rope around my wrists behind my back, and I shrugged. "One of those balls that makes stupid noises when you throw it for your dog. Want me to show you how it works?"

Yeah, I'd show 'em all right. I'd blow their asses to kingdom come, if they let me have a hand free and put that fucking bomb into it.

"Naw—I c'n figure it out."

Damn. He probably could, too. He'd push the little button, and in about twenty seconds, we'd all be sushi.

I darted a worried look at Heero, who seemed to fully understand our peril, and nodded towards the track we'd just left. If we were able to get down there, we might be able to survive the blast.

The idiot with the ball pushed the tiny button and grinned. "See? Easy."

I began a mental countdown, even as his buddy started scolding him and trying to take the bomb away. "We ain't got time for this shit."

Well, wasn't _that _the God's honest truth?

Heero suddenly let out a groan, distracting both men, and when they taunted him about pain, he assured them it didn't hurt as much as what was coming next.

"Huh?"

"He means 'fire in the hole'!" I clarified, throwing myself into the pit where the cart had stopped.

It fuckin' hurt like a bitch, landing face-first without my hands to break the fall. But that was nothing compared to the deafening roar of the explosion and the debris that rained down.

When the smoke began to clear, I scrambled to my knees, coughing and tugging at the ropes binding my arms behind my back.

"Duo?"

"Here."

Suddenly Heero was at my side, helping me up and reaching to untie me. But the sound of running feet prevented it.

"No time. Let's get out of here."

I'll tell ya…running with your hands tied behind your back is fuckin' hard. Trying to help support a wounded man at the same time, is fuckin' impossible.

Heero and I stumbled and staggered our way across the walkway and between some booths, coming out where there was a loud, colorful carousel still in full swing. He steered me towards it, and shoved me on ahead of him.

"Find something to hide behind, and if they spot us, we'll jump off on the other side!"

It might've worked, too, if my braid hadn't snagged on a carousel horse.

And not only did it snag—it managed to become hopelessly wrapped, even as three suited figures burst from between some booths and closed on our position.

I loved that braid—really I did—but in that instant, I hated it like I've never hated anything before. It was about to cost me my life, and my lover's life—all for the sake of vanity.

"Go!" I hissed at 'Ro.

"No. I won't leave you," he said calmly, trying to free my wayward hair.

"They'll kill you!" And my braid was _so _not worth his life!

He suddenly snapped off the horse's leg and shoved me towards the far side of the platform. Damn, the guy was strong!

"Run, Maxwell! And don't look back."

I know I should've obeyed him. But it felt like if I let him out of my sight, I might never see him alive again. I didn't want to be apart from him, if it was about to end that way.

"You are useless with your hands tied! Get under cover, and let me pick off that asshole!"

I finally did as he asked, slipping between prancing carousel figures and hopping off the far side of the spinning ride.

I almost made it, too. I was actually at the doorway, when a guy stepped out to intercept me, a gun leveled squarely at my face. I skidded to a stop, eyeing the gun and the man, and gauging the distance.

"I won't miss," he said coldly, shaking his head.

My shoulders slumped in defeat, even as he triumphantly stepped in and grabbed a handful of my braid, wrapping it around a fist and then bringing the gun up to my temple.

At the same time, the lights and music abruptly stopped, and the ride began to coast to a halt.

"Might as well come out, Yuy. I've got Maxwell."

"Sure you do," Heero called back skeptically.

"He does," I affirmed, sighing wearily.

Heero came staggering from between the wooden animals, looking much the worse for wear. It was obvious he'd lost plenty of blood, and was getting weaker by the minute. If I could get him to Catherine, I knew she had enough medical background to patch him up. But the odds of that happening were growing longer by the second.

By the time Heero had tossed his gun aside, and was working his way towards us, we heard the sound of gunshots in the distance. I just hoped it wasn't the sound of our two friends meeting a worse end than we already had.

"Sounds like maybe you lost your backup," Heero said coolly. "Could be it's just you and us."

At least my lover could run a bluff as well as I did. But the bastard holding onto me wasn't buying it just yet.

"Then it's a good thing I've got the gun," he countered, pulling me back against him and sliding an arm into a chokehold while he kept the gun at my temple. "Let's head for the main gate; our ride's waiting."

As he tried to propel me towards the exit, I resisted, trying to look at him out of the corner of my eye. "C'mon, man. Can't we make a deal?"

There had to be something I could offer him to at least get Heero out of the line of fire. I mean, if Khushrenada really wanted me alive, I wasn't in immediate danger. But Heero was.

"You've got nothing I want."

But I'd seen the way he looked at me back in the House of Horrors—the gleam of lust in his eyes. I knew damned well what he wanted.

"I c'n make it worth your while to let me go."

I knew I was gonna need to soak in a vat of industrial strength soap to feel clean again if I let the guy put his hands on me; but really, all I had to offer him was my body. And I'd seduced tougher holdouts than this guy in my time…including a hot, blue-eyed cop who fought me all the way.

"Not gonna bet a million bucks."

_A million bucks?! _Khushrenada was offering a freakin' million bucks for me? What the fuck?

"That's how much he wants you."

Then the guy rubbed his cheek against my hair, and I knew I still had a chance to barter, even if it was only for Heero's life.

"You want me to show you a good time—I need some incentive."

I laid it on pretty thick, talking about how men like Merquise and Khushrenada got all the best of everything, including ass. I promised him the best fuck of his life, and I felt more like a whore than I had when I played the part in that seedy hotel.

"If you treat me right, I might not kill the cop," he finally conceded.

"I need more than that; let the cop go."

"No!" Heero yelped, realizing what I was up to.

"Yuy, shut up!" I warned. "It's over. Y'got that? Over! He's takin' me to Khushrenada, and there's nothing gonna stop that. Just—walk away from this."

Or stagger away. I didn't much care, as long as it put Heero out of the line of fire for the moment. I wanted him to go find Chang and Catherine and get himself patched up before he lost too much blood.

I didn't know or care what would happen to me while he did that. If it turned out that the idiot with the gun to my head decided to drop his guard long enough to fuck me, maybe I could get away. Maybe not. But the point was that _Heero_ would, and nothing else mattered!

I really wished he'd just go with the flow, but 'Ro put up a good fight. He reminded me that Khushrenada wasn't likely to leave me alive once I was in his grasp, and I argued right back that it wasn't like I had much of a choice at this point.

Our stupid babbling pretty much clued in my captor that we were, indeed, lovers—and he decided to make Heero stay and watch while he took his pound of flesh.

That almost made me give up the charade, thinking of having Heero watch me debase myself for his freedom. He'd fuckin' hate me for it; that much was for sure.

"I said let him go, asshole—not make him watch!"

"You're in no position to make demands."

No, I wasn't. And even as the guy pawed at the zipper of my jeans, and I fought down my gag reflex, I got him to agree to leave Heero behind—alive. That was all I wanted.

Of course, my stubborn lover nearly blew it yet again, when he started towards us to prevent what was going to happen to me. When my captor's gun swung in his direction, I darted a glare at Heero, and pulled out all the stops in my seduction game.

"C'mon, fucknuts—forget about him and concentrate on _me_."

"Tell me," Sleazy FBI Dude said, tucking the gun muzzle up under my chin. "Can those pretty lips of yours do anything but swear?"

"You'd be fuckin' amazed at what they can do."

And while the bastard was fixated on the way I ran my tongue over my lips, I caught sight of Heero looking past us towards the other side of the pavilion.

God—did I dare hope he saw Chang or Catherine coming to our rescue?

Desperate to keep my quarry from noticing Heero's startled expression, I swallowed the urge to puke, and kissed the fucker right on the lips.

It was—vile.

I've kissed a lotta guys in my time…a whole lot. I kissed girls, too, back when I was trying to decide what my preferences really were. But I think I'd have traded that moment with the rogue FBI agent to go back to the alley where two cops raped me. It was every bit as sickening—just as much of a violation.

And to make it that much worse, I had to act like I liked it. I had to keep the man's attention totally on me, and pray that the flicker of hope I'd seen in Heero's eyes had been real, and not just a figment of my imagination.

"Not bad, sugar," I purred, looking up from under half-lidded eyes so the man wouldn't see how very much I hated him. "But you've gotta move that gun if you want me to go down on you. And you know you want it."

I swear, if I'd had to follow through on that deal, I'd have choked to death on my own vomit. But fortunately, as the guy put his gun away and shoved me to my knees, a shot rang out, and he toppled over backwards, dead before he hit the ground.

"Chang!" I looked up as Wufei ran to my side, wanting nothing more than to throw myself into his arms and cry on his shoulder again. I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life! "Jesus—am I glad to see you—! Heero's been shot!"

And then Catherine was there as well, helping Heero to his feet while Wufei untied me. And almost before I'd shaken the ropes free, Heero was pulling me into his arms. "Goddamn fucker—touching you! Don't ever ask me to sit by and watch something like that again!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Can't promise that, love. If it'd save your life—." _I'd do anything for you._

Hey, turnabout was fair play. If he'd take a bullet for me, how could I not be willing to face any trial for him? I'd die for him. I'd kill for him, too. I'd do fuckin' _anything _for that man!


	42. Finding Euphoria

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter fifty two of Witness.

Chapter Forty Two: Finding Euphoria

The rest of our departure from the amusement park was kind of a blur. I was too caught up in helping 'Ro walk, my attention fixated on his pale, taut features and the spreading bloodstain on his shirt.

And when he collapsed just as we arrived back at the main gate, I about died!

"Hey—don't quit on me now," I begged, trying not to let my voice shake with emotion.

Fuck! I was afraid he was dying in my arms—and when Cathy and I pulled him upright again, I looked at her in stark terror.

She gave me a reassuring smile that didn't reassure me in the least.

The only moment I wasn't fixated on Heero's blood loss and whether it was reaching the point of no return was when one last attacker nearly took out Chang at the car—and Cathy once again saved the day with lightning-fast reflexes. Helluva gal, that one.

She fuckin' nailed the guy in the eye with a throwing knife. I was torn between admiration and nausea. And I vowed to _never _piss that girl off again!

Then we were outta there…and I was in the back seat of an unmarked FBI vehicle with Heero's head pillowed in my lap as I tried to follow Catherine's instructions to keep gentle, but steady pressure on his wound.

It didn't settle my nerves at all when he drifted into unconsciousness.

"Cath—he passed out!" I blurted, giving her an agonized look as she leaned over the seat to examine him.

"Don't panic," she ordered firmly. "Between the blood loss and exertion, I'm not surprised he's drifted off. He'll be fine, Duo. That's not a lethal amount of blood."

"How do you know?" I snapped back, forgetting that recent vow to not piss her off. "Damn it, Cathy—!"

"Duo, stop!" she retorted, scowling at me. "You're overreaction isn't helping."

"I'm not overreacting! He's bleeding to death and you're acting like it's nothing!"

"He's not bleeding to death. He's suffered a trauma, and he's a bit shocky. Put your jacket over him for warmth, and keep him still. When we get to safety, we can remove the bullet and bind his shoulder."

I glared viciously at her, but she met my gaze steadily—calmly. "Trust me."

I started to shake my head, and then realized I had no choice. It wasn't like I knew more about bullet wounds than she did. For all my street smarts, I'd had little experience with treating injuries.

I mean, I knew how to wrap a slashed arm—I'd been in enough knife fights to learn a bit about cuts and stitches. But the only real firsthand experience I had with bullet wounds was watching Meilan die on a street in Chinatown. It didn't inspire confidence.

Funny, wasn't it? A circus girl knew more about wounds than a seasoned street punk. But the truth was, we'd settled things with fists more often than weapons on the streets. Weapons were harder to come by; you hadda buy or steal them. And if you used them, you didn't really stick around to see the results—if you were lucky.

If you weren't lucky, well, you still weren't able to see the results, if ya know what I mean.

Anyhow, all that aside, the only thing I could seem to focus on was how close Heero might be to death.

We drove all day, though I couldn't have told you where. At some point it started to rain, and the steady drumming on the roof made me doze off, slumped against the door to keep from leaning any weight on 'Ro.

I woke to darkness and shifted around, trying to ease the stiffness of my limbs that'd been still for too long.

"Sleep well?" Chang asked, glancing over the front seat briefly, his attention still focused on driving.

"Shit no," I sighed, lightly running a hand over Heero's forehead and breathing a sigh of relief at the warmth. "What'd I miss?"

"We're heading for a meeting with Barton, who'll bring us a change of vehicles and ditch this one. It's probably got GPS, and we can't chance the Feds tracking us."

"Fuck."

"Catherine called Winner's number while you were asleep and things are well in hand. We're meeting Barton near a railroad yard. He said something about putting this vehicle on a freight train headed west to throw any pursuers off course. Winner will pick him up and keep him safe. There's nothing to worry about."

"Except 'Ro," I reminded him.

"Catherine checked on him as well," Wufei said soothingly. "He was fine—and now that you're awake you can take over. How's he doing?"

"Okay, I think." I ran a hand down to his chest, feeling the reassuringly steady heartbeat. And then all at once I felt a rush of anger at how close I'd come to losing him. "Goddamnit, Chang—this wasn't supposed to happen!"

"I know, Maxwell. But considering the situation, and the opposition we face, it's not exactly surprising."

"I don't want you guys to die for me!" I blurted angrily.

Chang tried to assure me they wouldn't—but I wasn't convinced. I made him at least promise me that if anything went wrong—or even if it went right, and they got me into relocation—he'd look after Heero.

I think I'd suddenly realized how very human Heero was, and how even if we got to the courthouse and I managed to testify, we'd be separated for an indeterminate amount of time. I wanted to be sure someone would be watching out for him, while I wasn't there to do it.

Maybe I was flattering myself, thinking that he needed me—but he'd said as much. And watching his pale features as he slept just brought out every protective instinct I possessed.

So I got his partner to promise to be there for him, if I couldn't. And then he went and promised me the same.

"—we haven't exactly been—pals—you an' me," I reminded him.

"Oh, Maxwell," he chuckled. "Maybe not—but we're getting there."

And how cool was that? I never dreamed I'd be friends with a straight-laced cop like Wufei—or any other cop, for that matter. And there I was in love with one, and bosom buddies with another. Life was pretty weird.

Fortunately, Heero woke up about then, easing a lot of my worries, and we filled him in on the plan, such as it was.

He drifted right back off to sleep, obviously still weak from the blood loss. But I felt much more certain of his recovery.

When we pulled off the highway and made our way to a dark stockyard, I kept my eyes peeled for danger. But our rendezvous with Trowa went off without a hitch.

He helped us move Heero into the vehicle he'd brought, complete with blankets and a working heater that was pumping deliciously-warm air into the back seat. He'd even included forceps, needles and a disposable cell phone in the supplies he'd loaded up. I wanted to fucking hug the man, but settled for telling him he was the best, and promising to keep looking out for Catherine as best we could.

I knew he wasn't happy leaving her with us—but we really needed her medical skills, and there was no time to dilly dally at the railroad yard in that GPS-equipped car. We bid him a quick good-bye and once again hit the road.

Heero woke again a little later, and I assured him we were safe and free from pursuit, which seemed to be at the top of the list of his concerns.

Next on his list was getting us to the courthouse.

I finally just told him to stand down and let us handle things until we could patch him up.

Control freak. Seriously. Yuy did _not _like being helpless.

"My job—," he insisted. "And my love."

Aw—he just made me melt with that last sentence. "Yeah, and you're mine," I told him, dropping a kiss on his forehead. "Promise me forever?"

"Forever," he swore.

Neither one of us could be sure of keeping those promises; but it felt damn good to hear it anyway, even if he passed out again shortly thereafter.

We couldn't arrive at our destination soon enough for me!

Turned out it was a little seaside cottage in a town called Euphoria, that Catherine seemed to have heard of before. I wouldn't have cared if we were driving into Hell; I just wanted Heero in a real bed, with his wound treated and bandaged.

He tried playing the tough guy again when we brought him in from the car, but Chang and I more or less carried him. When we settled him on the plush mattress, his sigh of relief was clearly audible.

Fuck—he was in more pain than he was letting on!

I hovered and fussed while Catherine took care of Heero's wound—putting a towel under his shoulder and holding his hand through it all. And every wince and hiss he made hurt as much as if I'd been the one having a metal probe stuck into my shoulder.

I wished I could've traded places with him. It might've hurt a little less to be on the receiving end than it was to watch the man I loved having a bullet pried out of his flesh.

When it was finally over, and he was bandaged and tucked in, I wiped the sweat off his brow and fussed a bit more, making him eat a whole bowl of soup before I let him doze off for the night.

I was totally beat when I staggered back out to the kitchen, but I started washing out the bowl to keep myself busy. I don't even remember what I was babbling to Chang and Catherine at that point. I think I was going on about what I could make for meals the next day or something; then a hand settled on my shoulder and I about jumped out of my skin.

"Are you okay, Duo?"

"'Course I am, 'Fei. Jus' keepin' busy, y'know. Been cooped up in a car since noon yesterday—got a lot of pent up energy—."

He sighed, his thumb working gently at the tense muscles of my neck. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested.

I turned to gape at him. "It's the middle of the night, Chang. Hell—it's probably practically dawn by now—and you drove all day—."

"Come."

He firmly steered me out of the kitchenette, and Catherine gave a small smile as she headed out to pick up where I'd left off.

"Chang?"

"We won't go far," he promised, ushering me outside.

The brisk, salty breeze was like a slap in the face, clearing my head and causing me to look around and actually take stock of our surroundings. The cottage was on a little bluff, and not too far off, I could hear the soothing, repetitive sound of waves breaking on the shore. It was a singularly beautiful place—though I was really not in the right frame of mind to enjoy it.

"The clerk in the office mentioned a path," Wufei commented, flicking on a flashlight and taking the lead as I automatically followed.

We made our way down a rocky slope, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the vast dark bulk of the ocean as a deeper black than the star-studded sky. I sorta wished I had my sketchbook—and maybe enough light to see if there were rocks out there with waves crashing over them, or if it was a wide-open part of the ocean. But my imagination more or less filled in the blanks with whatever I wanted, and I fancied the sky was already beginning to pale, so I might see some gulls on the way back.

"Here," said Wufei, waving the light at a sort of plateau along the cliff, where a large, flat boulder made a rather rough-looking natural bench. "Sit."

I obeyed him, absently rubbing my hands together and remembering how they'd looked with Heero's blood on them.

"Stop," Chang ordered gently, grasping my hands between his, and kneeling in front of me. He'd laid the flashlight aside, but I could see his silhouette against the paling sky behind him, and the sparkle of his eyes, though I had no idea how there was enough light to reflect in them.

"Breathe."

"I'm breathing, man—," I began snidely.

"Slowly!" he snapped out, cutting off my rant. "In for five seconds…hold for five…out for five."

Ah. Like when we meditated back at the lake house.

I followed his orders, restless to get back to the cottage—back to Heero.

"Clear your mind."

"Chang—."

"Clear it!"

I sighed deeply. "How am I supposed to do that with the man I love lying back in that cottage half dead?"

"He's not half dead. He's one hundred percent alive. By morning he'll be well on the mend. But you—! You need to gain control of your emotions. You have been running on adrenaline ever since the amusement park. Even while you slept in the car, you muttered and moaned and were strung so tight it's a wonder you haven't spontaneously combusted."

I chuckled weakly. "That's a graphic and ugly image, Chang."

He gazed back steadily. "I once saw a man throw gasoline on another and set a match to it, Maxwell. Yes, it is ugly. Almost as ugly as the thought that you might drive yourself so crazy with worry that you do something stupid, like try to turn yourself over to Khushrenada."

"I won't," I said with a scowl. I mean, sure, the notion had crossed my mind a time or two—like when there were bullets flying and I knew with certainty that I'd rather take one myself than see either of my protectors die in my defense.

"You say that now," he continued quietly. "But I saw the desperation on your face, and heard it in your voice. And when you slept, you talked."

"You can't count half-awake rambling as gospel truth."

"True. But let me pose a hypothetical question; if Treize Khushrenada was down in that town…" Here he pointed to some lights further down the coast—a little seaside town. "Would you consider turning yourself over to him so that the chase would end and Heero, Catherine and I would be forgotten—left to heal up and make our way home?"

"Uhm…"

"The correct answer is 'No, Detective Chang. I would never dream of doing that. Because even if it would save Heero's life, it would leave him bereft and broken forever, because he _needs _me, and would rather die at my side than live without me.'"

I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing at the exaggerated example. "Jesus, Chang—I'm not gonna run throw myself on Khushrenada's mercy, for crissakes. Heero'd kick my ass anyway!"

The flash of white teeth made me realize he was grinning too. "I'm glad you realize that," he told me. "Now realize that Heero would be equally distraught at the thought of you running yourself ragged with worry and obsessing over him. _He will be fine_."

I nodded.

"So—close your eyes and listen to the sound of the wind over the grasses and let yourself feel the peace and beauty of this place. Listen to the gulls as they greet the dawn. Let your tension drain out of you, and concentrate on breathing slowly and deeply. Grant yourself _rest_."

It would've been impossible to refuse him—so I gave myself over to the soft whisper of the wind, and the rhythm of the waves, and the soothing timbre of his voice—and the tension did, indeed, drain out of me.

In fact, it drained so completely that Chang apparently carried me back up the hill and tucked me in beside Heero; at least, I have to assume that's what happened, since the next thing I was aware of was snuggling against my lover and drifting off to the steady sound of his heartbeat.


	43. Bad Ideas

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter fifty two of Witness.

Chapter Forty Three: Bad Ideas

I'll tell ya, there was just nothing that made my heart soar more than seeing Heero's deep blue eyes staring at me when I dragged my eyes open the next morning. It had been the feather-soft touch of his lips on my cheek that woke me in the first place; but seeing him awake and alert again brought me to full consciousness.

"Feelin' better?"

"Much."

And he was, too. We flirted pretty mercilessly about him having a shower, and I went and made coffee and brought him a cup, before going back out to see what I could make for breakfast.

I was disappointedly rummaging through our stuff for something worth cooking when the cottage door opened and Chang and Catherine stumbled in carrying bags of groceries. And here I thought they'd been sleeping in after our marathon of the past couple of days.

"Just in time!" I crowed, snatching the carton of eggs that was sticking out of one sack. "Heero's hungry."

Chang's eyes lit up at once. "He's awake!"

I nodded confirmation. "Awake and clamoring for a shower. I told him he's gotta wait until Catherine checks out the shoulder."

"I can do it right now," she offered.

Wufei caught her before she made it out of the kitchen. "You can do it after you have some food, Catherine," he said firmly. "If Yuy's demanding a shower, he's feeling well enough for you to eat before you resume your medical duties."

"'Fei's right," I agreed. "Heero's got coffee, and he's waiting for food. So I'll whip something up and feed him while you two are eating. Then he can have his checkup and shower."

Catherine gave both Chang and me dirty looks, but settled at the table and rested her chin on her hands, telling me about the walk she and her new beau had taken down to the town at the base of the cliffs, while I unloaded the food.

I found a few jars of spices thrown in the groceries and smirked at Chang. "You're learning, aren't ya?" I teased.

He shrugged one shoulder. "I pay attention. Those seemed to be some of the seasonings you used the most at our previous locations. I thought they might come in handy."

"We might be laying low, but we're gonna eat good—is that it?"

"When each meal might be our last—why not?" he grinned back.

Why not, indeed? I put together a breakfast that even Zechs would've been proud of.

And I would've spoon fed it to Heero if he'd let me. But that stubborn asshole sat up and ate on his own, grumbled when Catherine announced that he could shower only if I helped him there and back, and then tried to molest me in that selfsame shower. Macho shit.

He freakin' scared me half to death when he lost his balance in there, too. I hauled his ass back to bed, feeling like an idiot for thinking he might be strong enough for sex after he'd been shot a couple of days before.

But then, there was nothing wrong with_ me_—no reason I couldn't do all the work and let him enjoy the pleasure of it—right?

I gotta say, the way Heero's gaze followed me as I strutted towards him in all my naked glory, was a serious turn-on. I could just about _feel _the heat of it. And while it made me horny as hell, it also made me just plain hungry for him.

I gave him the best blowjob of my life—relishing every second of it. And when he gasped and came all at once, I swear to God, it was more satisfying than if it'd been me on the receiving end. When he looked at me with a sort of dazed and euphoric expression, I felt totally and utterly—complete.

I fuckin' loved the guy more every minute.

When I curled up next to him, basking in his warmth, I felt a wave of sheer contentment.

God—what a sap I'd become—.

I woke before he did, and slipped away to the kitchen to grab some lunch and see about making it for everyone.

Catherine and Wufei were playing cards at the table when I emerged from the bedroom, and I thanked my lucky stars I'd had the good sense to throw on some jeans and a faded tee shirt.

Hey—when ya parade around naked as much as I have, clothes are sort of an afterthought, y'know?

"Is Heero resting comfortably?" Catherine piped up.

"Sleepin' like a baby," I assured her. "I figured I'd wake him to eat some lunch in a little while."

"He should have more soup," she told me. "And maybe half a sandwich. He needs something substantial to help build up his strength."

"How's tunafish? Not much chewing involved—it oughta go down pretty easy."

She nodded, and I started poking through canned goods.

"Maxwell—we've been discussing the best way to get you into the courthouse," Wufei spoke up, laying his cards down on the table.

I knew they had. I'd caught enough snatches of conversation to realize it was a very real concern.

"Trowa said—."

"I _know _what Trowa said!" I blurted, cutting Catherine off in mid-sentence. "And he was fuckin' joking."

It had been back at that stupid stockyard, while we were exchanging cars, and I was too worried for Heero to really pay attention to what was going on around me.

Trowa had reminded Catherine about one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

I love the guy; I swear I do. But I'd have happily strangled him when he blurted out that I could dress up in chick's clothes to get into the courthouse.

Instead, I'd stupidly counted on Chang to be the voice of reason, or decency, or _something_. But, nope—he'd just given me a long, speculative look and said "It might work, Barton…"

I'd hated them both.

And her.

Cathy had grinned widely and nodded eagerly. "It could!" she squealed. "If we dressed him up and styled his hair—maybe put on a bit of makeup—."

"No!" I'd said flatly.

"Aw, Shini—you could totally carry it off," Trowa'd thrown in with that cajoling tone that meant I was thoroughly fucked. In fact, he'd used the same tone when he suckered me into the losing bet that resulted in my first, and what I thought would be my last, cross-dressing incident.

I swear, if I hadn't been so worried about Heero, and getting him to a place where Cathy could tend to his wound, I'd have never let the argument drop. But I had. I'd heard Heero let out a pained groan in the car, and dashed back to cradle his head and whisper soothing reassurances, letting Chang and the others carry on their unwelcome conversation outside, and hoping my departure would clue them in that the issue was _closed_.

But obviously Chang and Catherine wanted to re-open it.

"No!" I repeated, back in the here and now, and determined to nip the awful idea in the bud.

"They'd never expect it," Chang mused, dark eyes glimmering with a devious light.

"Not in a million years," Cathy agreed.

"That's 'cause I'm a guy," I asserted. "And proud of it. I'm not puttin' on a dress to sneak into the courthouse. Never."

"Hey, it fooled the guys at The Jungle," Catherine reminded me.

"Only 'til they saw the braid," I pointed out.

"Do tell!" Chang demanded, a positively unholy gleam in his eyes.

I _so _did not want to go there right now.

But apparently they did—so Cathy told the whole sordid story that Trowa had obviously regaled her with.

She told Chang how I'd bet that Trowa couldn't out drink the reigning champion of tequila shots at The Jungle. I'd really been counting on Nicky to thoroughly trounce him.

Little did I know at the time, Trowa had hedged his bet by sharing a pizza with extra pepperoni and anchovies with the guy before I got there. Apparently Nicky filled up on pizza, while Trowa nibbled a bit—and after the first seven or eight shots, Nicky lost the liquor and the pizza in a spectacular bout of vomiting right there on the floor of the bar.

Unfortunately, Trowa hadn't told me about the setup until after I'd paid up on my end of the wager, and done a striptease to "Dude Looks Like a Lady," starting out in an evening gown, thigh-high stockings and spiked heels.

It was the most humiliating thing I've ever done—and I'm including the time my boyfriend du jour and I got caught having sex on a horse statue in a public park.

"Trowa said they went wild over him," Cathy told Chang, who was doing way too much hanging on her every word.

She was—more or less correct. Once the audience had realized it was me, they about brought the house down.

Y'see, I started out in center stage, with my back to the audience…one hand holding the gleaming silver pole, and the other resting on my hip…my braid pulled forward over a shoulder.

I was wearing a sort of shimmery silver gown—floor-length, with a gathered train of lace in the back, and sequins over both shoulder straps and scattered on the skirt—along with matching full-length gloves. I'd had to fuckin' shave my legs for the stupid performance, so I could wear the thigh-high silver fishnet stockings and the lace-up high heels.

There were slits down both sides of that dress, and I had one leg stuck out to the side in a pose as the spotlight lit up and the music began with that silly little riff that you first hear. I couldn't help but rock a hip to the sound, letting the music sort of wash over me and drown out the embarrassment as much as possible.

But as soon as the beat kicked in and I started actually moving to it, I heard the sound of booing and jeering.

"What's with the chick?"

"Hey, this is a gay bar—where's the guys?"

"Get lost lady!"

I was fuckin' getting booed off the stage, just about!

Meanwhile, Trowa was in the wings, nearly busting a gut.

Oh, I almost forgot the part where I had a feathered boa around my neck, too. Before someone could decide to try to drag me off stage by it, I had the presence of mind to flip my braid back over my shoulder so it swung against the silky fabric in plain sight.

Suddenly there was a collective gasp from the crowd, and cheers of "Shinigami" broke out. And then thunderous clapping.

Jesus—at least the impending riot had been averted. That was the plus side. On the minus side—all the regulars at The Jungle realized they were lookin' at Shinigami in drag. How humiliating!

But I was nothing if not adaptable. I let the music just carry me, and rocked and strutted like I was proud to be out there, twirling the first long glove I'd peeled off and tossing it into the crowd.

At the part in the song where they say "—she whipped out a gun and tried to blow me away—," I pulled out the .38 I had strapped to one thigh and leveled it at the crowd.

Relax—it wasn't loaded. But they just went wild over the gesture and I actually began to get into the performance. Yeah, that "let me take a peek, dear" had me hiking up the skirt to tease at the edge of the thong I was wearing under it…and by the time they got to "oo, he was a lady" I was yanking off the break-away dress altogether.

I ended up naked, save for the thigh-highs, the heels, and a teensy little silver thong—prancing to the music and just hamming it up for all I was worth.

Part of that might've been the considerable amount of tequila I'd downed while getting dressed. Hey, I hadda psych myself up _somehow_!

By all accounts, and judging by the screams for an encore, it was a successful performance.

One I never wanted to repeat.

And I was being asked to reenact it for a courthouse full of people, sort of. I was not happy with the idea.

But Chang suggested running the idea past Heero, and while I've never been a religious man, I prayed with all my heart to God, the saints, and the Devil himself, that my lover would reject the idea as nonsensical and hopeless.

Showed how much I knew.


	44. Preparations

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters fifty three and fifty four of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Forty Four: Preparations

Dear Diary:

I almost threatened to put that bullet right back into Heero when he went along with Chang and Catherine's warped idea to stick me in a dress. I swear, the guy's lucky I love him so goddamned much, or I'd have been seriously tempted.

I mean, _fuck_! He's gay. You'd think he wouldn't be in such a hurry to stuff his male lover into women's clothing.

At any rate, we went on a shopping trip in downtown Euphoria as soon as Catherine figured 'Ro was up to it.

I might've enjoyed our little walking tour of the town, except that Cathy, that sadistic little witch, made me look at more chick clothes than I realized they fuckin' made!

When she got around to buying pantyhose and bras, I was seriously tempted to cut and run. Honestly, I hadda ask myself if it was really worth bringing Khushrenada down, if I had to stoop to something so completely warped as cross-dressing.

I know—I did it on a bet once. But that was really different. I wasn't trying to be mistaken for a chick! I was just fulfilling the terms of a ridiculously stupid bet.

Anyhow, let's just drop the subject of the clothes shopping.

For me, the highlight of Euphoria was Pops' restaurant…The Gull's Wing. The minute I tasted the marinara sauce, I knew I was in the presence of greatness. Damn, but the man could cook!

I made my way to the kitchen as soon as I could, to find out how he got that extra little "tang" in the flavor.

He reminded me of Howard, a bit—kind of grizzled and scruffy looking, but with lines and wrinkles in his face that made him look wise. They would've also made him pretty interesting to sketch.

In addition to a genuinely interesting face, he had a great smile—looked like it came right from the heart—and a bright little spark of humor in those sea-green eyes.

Yeah, I liked the old geezer right away. Told him his marinara was spectacular, but that I couldn't quite place one of the ingredients.

He was a skeptic, until I listed all the things I _did _recognize in it; then I think he knew I had a clue as to what I was talkin' about. And he opened right up and started spilling secrets.

I coulda talked to the guy all day. He was a wealth of cooking knowledge. Zechs would've probably tried to hire him as a personal chef if he'd ever met the guy.

For a little while, in that warm, good-smelling kitchen, I forgot all about Khushrenada and the upcoming trial and how uncertain my future was…and I just happily traded cooking tips with Pops. It was a wonderful interlude…enough to distract me from all that weighed on my mind.

And on the way out, I got to hold Heero's arm. Seemed like no one in that rustic little restaurant gave a rat's ass about same-sex couples; they didn't even raise an eyebrow at our closeness.

I really liked that town. I kinda hoped Heero might agree to come back after the trial was over.

When we finished up our business, I talked 'Ro into walking up the cliff trail with me, rather than riding in the car with Chang and Catherine. It felt like maybe the last time we'd truly be alone until everything was over, and I wanted to share the beauty I'd noticed only peripherally when Chang took me out there to calm down.

I'd been so obsessed about Heero, it'd been hard for me to take in the wide splash of stars across the inky sky, and the distant cries of gulls and crash of waves. I thought I might be better able to enjoy it with 'Ro at my side, alive and well.

Um, _almost _well. I felt like a fuckin' idiot when he got winded halfway up the trail and hadda stop for a breather. Jesus, the guy'd been shot a couple of days before, and I expected him to hike with me! Stupid! Just plain stupid of me.

He sat down on a flat boulder to catch his breath, and I babbled a bit about how sorry I was, and how I'd just wanted to share the scenery with him.

And then, in that totally romantic way you'd never expect from a tough-guy cop, he fuckin' _proposed_ to me!

Even though I knew there were no same sex marriages in that state, it still made my heart just about leap out of my chest. I had no problem promising to stick with him for the rest of our lives.

I even managed to say the words. Y'know—the ones I had such a taboo about?

Okay, I told him I loved him. Happy?

Well, y'know what? It made _him _so fuckin' happy I was sorry I'd held back so long. I mean, he practically _cried_—or at the very least, he got a little teary. And he held my hand the rest of the way back to the cottage, as if he were gonna hang onto me no matter what.

I really hoped he meant it.

That night went by all too fast, and the next morning we headed for the big city, and my day in court.

It kinda scared me to hear Chang and Yuy talk about their captain as if they weren't even sure of her loyalty any more. They were plenty paranoid where I was concerned, and while it was comforting to have them watching over me—it was a bit disconcerting to realize how huge the looming threat was.

It got even worse after Heero talked to his boss, and found out she really _had _sent good people out to meet us at the amusement park—people who never got there and were now assumed dead.

I felt bad about that. It seemed like bodies were piling up…bodies that would've stayed alive if I hadn't.

I knew there was no point thinkin' like that. I mean, I always felt like when your number's up, it's up. But I also felt a little responsible for the folks Khushrenada killed trying to get to me—like Rashid, and Heero's cop friends. Those people would not have died if it weren't for me.

Of course, Heero knocked some sense right back into me by reminding me it was all Khushrenada's doing. From Zechs' murder, right down to the last crooked FBI agent we'd blasted at the amusement park—it all could be laid at Treize's feet. He was the one who set it in motion, and the one who kept it going.

I really loved how Heero could say the right thing to make me feel less guilty about it all.

"It's nothing more than the truth," he told me.

And I totally believed him.

We stayed at a hotel on the outskirts of the city that night. It was my last chance to sleep in Heero's arms until the trial was over. And what a bittersweet blessing it was!

I couldn't get hot and heavy with him in the same room with Cathy and Wufei. So I had to content myself with snuggling into his arms and relishing the warm, solid feel of his body against mine. I could've stayed there forever listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart and the soft sound of his breathing.

But the night flew past, and the next thing I knew, Catherine was dragging me into the bathroom and laying out the clothes I was going to have to wear to get into the courthouse.

There was only time for a quick shower, which I took while listening to her humming contentedly as she organized her supplies.

"Um, couldn't you wait out in the other room?" I asked, self-conscious about having nothing but a skinny shower curtain between me and Chang's girlfriend.

"I'm not looking," she insisted. "And for crying out loud, you've been stared at stark naked by hundreds of people at The Jungle. What's the sudden modesty all about?"

"It's different," I muttered, rushing through my hair-washing in record time. "Less—intimate."

"Stop being such a prude," she scolded. "I'm not the least bit interested in staring at your butt, Maxwell. I'm just the wardrobe person."

"I dressed myself at the club," I told her. "No makeup man or wardrobe assistant."

"Yeah, and I'll bet you guys walked around nearly naked half the time when you were backstage. So get over it!"

Her hand suddenly appeared between the shower curtain and the wall, holding a pink razor.

"What the fuck?"

"Take it," she ordered. "And if you don't want razor burn, soap up your legs before you shave them."

"Shave them?!" I thundered, horrified at the thought.

"Oh come on—I'm absolutely sure you had to do it for the bet at The Jungle."

"But this is for a stupid jaunt to a courthouse. And I'll be wearing pants for the trial."

"Good Lord, Duo—how do you expect to fool anyone if you've got fuzz sticking through your pantyhose?"

I'd kinda been hoping she'd forget about the pantyhose, and maybe let me get away with knee socks or something.

She jiggled the nasty pink thing in her hand. "Take it!"

So I took it. And I dutifully soaped up my legs before scraping off the hair from the knee down. If she wanted anything higher than that shaved, she'd need a fuckin' army!

A few minutes later, I turned off the water, and she promptly stuck a towel in from one end of the curtain. "Dry off."

"Yes, mother," I drawled, obeying out of a mixture of fear (hey, she was an accomplished knife-thrower) and discomfort (I really wanted clothes on soon—even chick's clothes).

She eyed me dispassionately as I pulled the curtain back and stood with the towel clasped firmly around my waist. "Put these on first."

I looked at the wrinkly little nylons she was holding out. "What about my underwear?"

"These _are _underwear," she assured me. "We got the control-top ones, with a sort of built-in panty—so you won't have any lines showing."

I stared at her for a long moment, realizing she had no idea how much danger she was in right then. I wondered if my immunity to prosecution would give me a free pass if I strangled her with a pair of pantyhose.

"C'mon, Duo—we don't have all day!" She waved them at me.

"Turn around," I ordered coldly, snatching them out of her hand, and waiting until she'd completely turned her back, before dropping my towel and pulling on the delicate stockings.

At least my one prior cross-dressing experience had taught me how carefully you have to handle pantyhose to keep them from getting runs. I managed to put them on without mishap, though considering the immediate stranglehold they had on my balls, it seemed unlikely I'd survive wearing them.

I swore to God, if that jury didn't convict Khushrenada after I went through all this shit—I'd fuckin' throttle them _and _the judge—with my control-top, sheer, reinforced-toe L'eggs!


	45. Duo Looks Like a Lady

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters fifty four and fifty five of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Forty Five: Duo Looks Like a Lady

By the time Catherine finished dressing me and dolling me up, my hair was pulled back and hanging in ringlets around my shoulders, my face was dusted with rouge, and my eyes and lips were highlighted with shadow and lipstick. I almost didn't recognize myself in the mirror.

"Duo," she said in a near-whisper, her eyes wide as she looked at the finished product. "You look—gorgeous."

I glared at my reflection—but—she had a point. I _did _look pretty hot—like a fuckin' _girl_—but a really _hot_ one.

"You look nice," she added, smiling helpfully.

_Yeah, and I'll bet Doctor Frankenstein looked at his creation pretty much the same way!_

"You'll pay for this," I warned her, stepping over to the door, and yanking it open in time to hear Heero saying something about what had happened to my sketch book.

"I gave it to Tro' to hang onto when he came to the farmhouse," I told him.

He and his partner looked up—and promptly dropped their jaws on the floor.

"Holy fucking shit!" Chang blurted.

I gotta say, I don't think that man had ever looked at me so intensely—Wufei, that is. Heero always looked at me that way—lucky me.

"You fucking shaved your legs!" Chang yelped.

I looked down self-consciously, only to hear my lover give a wolf-whistle that made me look up in time to see his admiring head to toe glance.

"You don't even _like _women, Yuy," I reminded him. "So stop pretending this turns you on."

"It turns _me _on," Wufei teased, just about making me fall over in shock.

Jesus—we'd seriously overdone it if even the ice cop himself was attracted to me!

"You're _hot_, Maxwell!"

"Fuck you, Chang," I retorted, squirming in discomfort. I wasn't sure if it was the clothes, or the way they made a straight guy look at me—but I seriously wanted to get the fuck out of them.

And those damned pantyhose were riding up into my crotch already. It promised to be a long, long day.

We got under way pretty quickly after that, driving into the city while my two cops discussed security and Cathy fretted over whether she'd made me too good looking.

Honest to God—she was worried that I'd stand out too much—after she was the one who made me go the extra mile and shave my damned legs!

Anyhow, we made our way to the courthouse, and the vastness of the crowd there just about made me want to take off running again. Seriously! There was a solid mass of people outside the building, waiting to get inside, while cops stood in riot gear keeping order amid the chaos.

The whole street was cordoned off, with SWAT and Bomb Squad vehicles blocking both ends, and every parking place for blocks around seemed to be taken. Plus, there were guys up on the roof with long range rifles. I might've felt better about it if I thought they were on our side—but if they were FBI, there was little chance of that.

Y'know those shooting galleries with ducks in a row? I felt kinda like one of those ducks, and I just hoped that I'd blend in well enough that I wouldn't get picked off if someone decided to start shooting.

Both Yuy and Chang reassured me, and themselves, that anyone looking for me would be so fixated on a braided man that they'd miss the curly-haired chick I'd transformed into.

Heero leaned over the seat to give me a quick kiss, careful not to smudge my lipstick. "Go knock 'em dead, lover."

"Like _that'll _get me inside the courthouse," I joked weakly.

I put on a brave front, but I was scared kinda shitless as Cathy and I got out of that car a block from the courthouse and started walking down the sidewalk.

She tucked one arm around mine. "Slow down, Duo," she chided me. "Girls don't stride—they mince."

"Mince?" I asked, glancing aside at her in disbelief. "Like mincing onions?"

"Take smaller steps," she clarified.

"Ah. No strutting?" I guessed, shortening my stride and wiggling my hips a little.

"Oh, actually a little sway of the hips is good," Cathy grinned. "Makes you look alluringly feminine."

"I'll remember that if I'm ever on stage stripping again," I muttered. I'd been terribly proud of my "stage strut," having seen its effect on numerous horny guys. But somehow it didn't feel the same when it was described as "feminine."

We'd reached the end of the line then, and settled back to wait and work our way inside.

"Don't talk much," Catherine reminded me. "Voice high and light, if you do."

"Yes, Cath," I said in a blatant falsetto.

"Overdone," she scolded.

"How's this?" I asked, going for husky and soft instead of high and tittering.

"Better. And avoid eye contact. Most women don't stare right at you. I think you should go for shy and demure, rather than brassy."

"But I _am _brassy," I hissed in an undertone, keeping an eye on folks around us to be sure no one was hearing any of this.

"As a guy you are," she agreed. "But you look like a schoolmarm—a really pretty, charming one. So play the part."

I wasn't sure if I was flattered or annoyed. Why couldn't she have made me a sexpot of a gal? I mean, it was more true to my nature. God knew I was sex on legs at The Jungle—back in the day.

"If I dressed as a guy," Cathy told me. "I wouldn't try to act like myself. I'd go for something a little tougher and more solid. So you shouldn't try to be the same as your normal self, either. It's a disguise, remember. Go with the outfit and the look—and you look like a _nice_ girl. Be the way you are with Heero—softer and gentler."

"I am?"

She smiled up at me. "You are so sweet together it's almost sickening."

I bumped her with my shoulder, smiling back. "Jesus, ya got me making 'girl talk' now, doncha? Next we'll be doing each other's nails."

She giggled and we both relaxed a bit, trying not to let the tension of the situation sink in.

But by the time we'd reached the doors of the building and were stepping into the foyer, I could feel my muscles beginning to tighten with unease. The first guard we encountered gave us a disinterested once-over and gestured us through to the main entrance.

Here there were several lines, splitting up to go to individual check-ins. I meant to stay beside Catherine, but the next attendant pointed her towards the first line, and put out a hand when I moved to follow.

I gave him an irritated look. "We're together."

"That's nice," he said with a shrug. "But you'll go to the next available metal detector. You and your sis can hook up inside."

"Asshole," I mumbled, waiting with my arms crossed, tapping a round-toed shoe impatiently.

Heh. It was kinda fun acting like a pissed-off chick. I even went so far as to inspect my nails and roll my eyes.

"Over there," he finally said, waving me to the line next to Catherine's.

I "minced" over to the designated line, and clutched the purse Cathy'd packed with a comb, elastic, and washcloth closer to my waist.

"Well, hello there," said the guard in that line, looking me up and down slowly. He smiled lasciviously. "Anyone ever tell you you've got beautiful eyes?"

I blinked in disbelief. Was the fucker actually _hitting _on me? I was tempted to pull up my skirt and show him he was barkin' up the wrong tree.

"Tell me you're single," the idiot continued, crowding into my personal space just a bit more than was polite.

"Ah—not!" I blurted, holding out my purse for him to inspect.

He took it and did a cursory scan of the contents before handing it back. "You'll proceed through that metal detector over there," he told me, pointing to the next checkpoint. "After I frisk you."

I turned a wide-eyed stare on him, and didn't have to fake the higher tone of my voice. "Frisk me?"

He smirked smugly. "Just a formality, ma'am." He did the standard run of hands down my sides and back. "All done."

But as I turned to head for the metal detector, I felt his hand surreptitiously grab my butt on the way past.

I almost spun around and decked the guy—but Catherine was nearly through her line and was starting to look around for me, reminding me there were things more important than the asshole with roaming hands.

So I quickly made my way through the metal detector and waited a moment for her, fuming silently.

"What's the matter?" she asked, as she found me and took my arm.

I just shook my head, scanning the crowd for Heero and Wufei, and when I saw them I stomped over and glared. "What _is _it with you cops?"

When they asked what the problem was, and I told them about Mister Frisky-Hands, I thought Heero was gonna go rip the guy's head off. He gave the security lines a look that could've stripped flesh from bone.

My hero, Heero. Heh, heh.

At any rate, I got him to drop the subject—I was more interested in getting out of those pantyhose before they permanently castrated me. Hey, I was kinda fond of my "guys" if ya know what I mean.

Quatre showed up with my clothes just in time to keep me from doing something stupid, like stripping in that hallway. And after the obligatory teasing, he gave them to me and 'Ro hauled me into the men's room to change.

Heh, I think he was as wound up as I was, since he forgot I was wearin' chick's clothes. We totally scandalized some old bat with a kid, and I was tempted to make kissy-lips at her as she dragged her kid away, giving us a horrified look.

God—I needed to let off some steam in a bad way! I was already feeling the pressure closing in on me, and it was making me want to do stupid, stupid things—like run away, or walk into the courtroom naked—or _something_.

But 'Ro got me settled down, more or less, and I tore out of those women's clothes in record time. And once I'd washed my face and wet down and braided my hair, I felt a lot more like myself.

So much so, in fact, that while Heero and Wufei were trying to explain to a couple of cops why he'd dragged a woman into a men's room—I slipped out, handed off my discarded clothes to Quatre, and nipped off to take care of some business of my own.

I made my way down to the security line and tapped the shoulder of the sleazebag who'd copped a feel.

He turned and looked blankly at me, obviously not recognizing the "beautiful eyes" he'd raved about when I was wearin' a skirt.

"Hey, dickhead," I muttered. "Keep your fuckin' hands above the waist from now on! You groped my sister, asshole."

Recognition dawned, and before he could say a word, I decked him.

His buddies saw the brief commotion and headed our way, but I slipped between a couple of fat guys and lost myself in the crowd, carefully making my way back up to my escorts.

Heero was _not _pleased. And frankly, I couldn't blame him; it _had _been damned selfish of me to take such a silly risk at this late hour. I felt like a heel for causing him more worry.

But when I told him I was so cranked up I'd needed to let off some steam or go nuts, he more or less backed off, and the next thing I knew, he and Chang were walking me down the hall to the courtroom.

The idiot at the door didn't wanna let us in, and I was all for us just hitting the road by that time—but when Heero's boss and some other dude I didn't recognize showed up, my lover pretty much shoved me past the bailiff and into the court.

Everything went real still at our entrance, and I found myself standing in the middle of the aisle, the object of many curious stares, looking up at a stern-faced judge.

"What is the meaning of this? How dare you come bursting into my courtroom? Who _are _you people?"

I was dimly aware of Khushrenada, off to one side with his lawyers—but I didn't dare look at him. Instead I cleared my throat and spoke up.

"Uhmm—Your Honor? M-my name's Duo Maxwell," I stammered, almost wincing at the ragged sound of my voice. "And I—witnessed Zechs Merquise's murder. I'm here to testify for the prosecution."

I'd fucking made it! I was alive, and in the courtroom, about to testify against the bastard who killed my lover. And short of a meteor falling on the building, nothing but nothing was gonna stop me.

_Hot damn!_ We'd made it!


	46. The First Hurdle

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters fifty five and fifty six of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Forty Six: The First Hurdle

Things moved pretty fast after my announcement, and I found myself being hauled down the corridor by the D.A., with Heero trailing behind. I'd kinda lost track of Wufei, but I think he was fielding questions from their boss or something.

We were almost to Noventa's office when a door opened and a blonde chick stepped out into the corridor. Next thing I knew, she'd run and flung herself into Heero's arms. _My _Heero's arms.

I yanked free of the attorney's grasp and stormed over to tell the bitch off. I didn't care who she was or how she knew Heero—he was _mine_.

"What the _fuck _is your problem, lady?"

Then she turned to look at me, and I realized it was the same woman who'd been in Zechs' arms that night at the penthouse—the one he said was his sister. "You!"

She cringed against 'Ro and grabbed his hand.

"You have got to _stop fucking __**stealing **__my boyfriends_!"

I made a grab for her and she ducked behind my lover, which made me suddenly wonder what the deal was. She obviously knew him—but how?

I didn't get to find out right then, because Noventa caught up to me and hauled me the rest of the way to his office, shoving me into a chair and stalking around to the other side of his desk.

"We haven't got much time," he said brusquely. "I've read the report by Detective Yuy concerning the statement you gave him at Sisters of Mercy Hospital." He looked up and pinned me with a shrewd stare. "I take it you still stand by that account?"

"Y-yes sir," I managed, still glancing towards the door and wondering what was going on out there with Heero and that woman.

"Then I need to you tell me once again, in your own words, what happened the night of Zechs Merquise's murder."

I frowned at him. "Why? It's all there. Nothing's changed."

His scowl deepened. "That's for me to decide. Just tell me the story again—I need to check for accuracy."

I narrowed my eyes. "You think I made somethin' up?"

"No. But if your account on the witness stand differs from your original statement, the defense will try to pick it apart. So start talking!"

And I did.

I sat there in that chair—tired, footsore, a little hungry, and worried about what that scene in the hall meant to Heero's and my relationship—and relived Zechs' murder _again_.

I swear, lawyers are fuckin' sadists.

I went on about how Zechs and I got to his place, had wild, passionate sex, and then calmed down and made an intimate dinner for two, before round two of wild, passionate sex. And talking about that probably choked me up more than telling about the murder.

It made me remember the good times with Zechs, and how great he'd made me feel—and even though I loved Heero with all my heart, I really missed the hell out of Zechs right about then.

I might've dwelled on that, but Noventa commenced grilling me harder than I'd ever been grilled in my whole life. And considering how many times I'd been arrested, that said something about his interrogation technique.

The man was relentless.

I was almost glad of the break when a woman with a badge that said "Captain S. Po" and a guy in a plain black suit (classic FBI issue) came in.

"Noventa, I'll want Maxwell's security turned over to my people at once," said the man, not even looking at me.

"That's preposterous," the woman countered. "He's in police custody, testifying in a murder case. This is outside the realm of federal jurisdiction."

"Not for long. Once my boss hears that we've got Maxwell, he'll want to level federal charges against Khushrenada for racketeering, money laundering, murder, fraud, drug trafficking—."

"He'll have his chance _after _the conclusion of this trial," the woman snapped back.

"Not good enough. With the publicity surrounding this trial, there's too much chance of exposure—."

Noventa looked pissed—just plain pissed. "Look, I haven't got time for your petty jurisdictional dispute. I have less than an hour to prepare Maxwell to take the stand. Frankly I don't _care _who's responsible for his protection—."

"Well I _do_," I spoke up, suddenly finding my voice. I glared at the FBI agent warily. "I mean, fuck! You two are bickering over me like I'm some kinda bone and you're a coupla junkyard dogs. Well I'm _not_! I'm a flesh and blood person—and I've got some fuckin' constitutional rights! I am not putting myself in the hands of the FBI." I looked appealingly at Noventa. "A bunch of Feds tried to kill me, 'Ro and Chang just a few days ago. And before that, too. Khushrenada's got moles all through the Bureau. Zechs told me so." I crossed my arms. "Unless Yuy and Chang keep watchin' my back, I ain't gonna testify for anybody!"

"You have no choice," began the FBI dude.

I shook my head. "Sure I do. I can sit there on that witness stand with my fuckin' mouth glued shut—take the fifth. I know my goddamned rights, fuckhead!"

"Mister Maxwell, there's no need for that," the woman assured me. "Chang and Yuy worked hard to get you here, and they told me you genuinely want to testify. Don't let an overstuffed shirt like Agent Alexander screw that up!"

I met her gaze steadily. "Then give me what I want," I said flatly. "Let Yuy and Chang stay on as my bodyguards until the verdict comes in. After that, I'm willing to go into relocation—as long as the Feds aren't involved."

Noventa took over again at that point. "You heard him Alexander. Captain Po's people will continue to provide protection throughout this trial. Then we'll discuss Maxwell's relocation, and the possibility that he'd be willing to come forward should your people build a federal case against Khushrenada." He looked back at me. "Is that acceptable?"

I mulled it over for a minute or two. I had no intention of having to testify in a federal case; I planned to duck out of relocation and look Heero up as soon as possible. But Alexander didn't need to know that.

"Okay," I conceded. "I mean, I'm gonna testify in just a little while—and then Khushrenada really won't have much of a reason to keep tryin' to kill me. The damage will be done. Maybe I won't even _have_ to hide out. So as long as the Feds keep their fucked up noses out of it, I'm cool with Yuy and Chang as my babysitters until this is all wrapped up."

"It's settled then," Noventa said firmly.

I sighed, licking dry lips and wondering how much longer my interrogation was going to continue. "Hey—you got any water or anything?" I asked him, ignoring the muttered disagreement the police captain and Alexander were still having.

"I'll have someone bring you something from a vending machine." Noventa pointedly cleared his throat. "Captain Po, Agent Alexander—you can go now. And have someone bring a soda for Mister Maxwell."

Both of the bristling combatants looked insulted—though I didn't know if it was from his dismissal, or because they'd been told to fetch for me. I was a good boy. I didn't even smirk.

They left a moment later, though I heard Alexander still trying to convince Po to let his people help with guard duty. I hoped he didn't succeed, because I'd meant what I said about refusing to cooperate if that happened.

Personal feelings aside, I trusted Heero and Wufei with my life. They'd proven time and again that they'd do anything to keep me safe, and I felt genuinely protected in their presence. It was soothing and reassuring—and right then I needed all the reassurance I could get.

"Crap," Noventa muttered, looking at the clock. "I called for someone to bring up your criminal file over fifteen minutes ago—we're running out of time." He pushed away from his desk and went out the door, leaving me to slump back in the chair and close my eyes wearily.

I just wanted it all to be over. I wanted to collapse in Heero's arms and let him soothe away all my worries.

Though, after seeing him with the blonde, I had a few new ones—.

Then, as if hearing my jumbled thoughts, 'Ro stepped into the office, his deep eyes fixing me with a warm, concerned look.

I pushed myself upright, a million doubts suddenly crowding into my head. "So—was Chang right?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"About—?"

"That chick in the hallway. She your girlfriend?"

"Hell no!"

His reaction was so quick and unguarded that my heart leapt with relief. But I still had to ask why the girl ran to him—why she hugged him.

"Because she's a freakin' psycho bitch stalker."

Hell—he was beginning to sound like me. And when I hesitated, he leaned in and kissed me deeply and thoroughly. "I love you, Duo Maxwell. Only you. Forever."

The last of my fears drained away, and I was finally able to smile at him.

Then he asked me how I knew Relena Darlian and I found myself floundering again. "Her name's Peacecraft—isn't it?"

That was what Zechs had told me. That she was his sister. And he'd grown up as Milliardo Peacecraft.

I couldn't believe he'd lied to me.

I mean, fuck! It'd taken him a week to get me to talk to him after I saw him hugging the blonde woman at the penthouse. And it had taken him hours to convince me she was family, and not a quick fling on the side to occupy his time between visits with me.

And now Heero seemed to be telling me I'd bought into a lie after all.

"Relena's his half-sister. His mother remarried."

God—what a relief! Considering the emotional roller coaster I'd spent the last few weeks on, I wasn't sure my heart could take many more shocks. I was seriously craving some peace and quiet—missing the lake house and the hot tub, or the sandy shore by the circus property.

I wanted to just settle into a life with Heero at my side—no more running and hiding—no more surprises—no more upheaval of my routine. I wanted to be at peace.

"God, I can't wait for this all to be over."

I didn't have much time to sit there feeling sorry for myself. Chang showed up with a soda for me, and Noventa returned with my rap sheet. We went over it pretty quickly, and the D.A. reminded me to keep it clean up on the stand—cut out the swearing and the slang and try to give a calm and reliable account of the murder.

I could do that. I knew I could—if for no other reason than that Heero and Wufei had gone through Hell to keep me alive, and I owed it to them to finish what they'd begun.

Then, as we were heading into the courtroom, we came face to face with Treize Fucking Khushrenada, and I about died. The bastard had the audacity to offer his condolences, his smug smirk firmly in place as we made eye contact.

He knew damned well what he'd done, and that I'd seen it; I wouldn't _be _there if I hadn't. And yet he had the balls to play dumb for the audience.

"Don't stand there and patronize me, you bastard!" I snarled. "I watched you kill him!"

He chuckled and went on his way, content to have rattled me, and Noventa chewed me out a bit. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that the final taunt from the arrogant crime lord gave me the last bit of resolve I needed.

I was going to see his sorry ass in jail if it was the last thing I ever did!


	47. Taking the Stand

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapters fifty six and fifty seven of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Forty Seven: Taking the Stand

Wow. It was a totally weird feeling to be sworn in as a witness in a trial. I'd ended up at the defense table so many times in my juvenile days that I was almost drawn to that side of the courtroom.

But Noventa tucked me in between Wufei and Heero while he went up to tell the judge he was ready to proceed, and a moment later, he called me to the stand.

I hoped the trembling of my hands wasn't obvious as I stood to go, and was grateful for the brief squeeze Heero gave one as I passed. For him, I could do this.

And it was every bit as much for 'Ro as it was for Zechs. I mean, Zechs was dead. And frankly, he'd probably have preferred it if I'd been able to kill off Khushrenada rather than put him away for life. But I was gonna do this the legal way, for myself and for Heero. There'd be no shadow over the new life we'd be able to start when the trial concluded.

I kept an eye on my lover as I took the stand, warmed by the complete faith and support I saw in his eyes. He was my rock.

And whoa—when had _that _happened? Trowa was supposed to be my anchor, wasn't he? But somehow, I'd learned to lean upon Heero just as much. And my faith hadn't been misplaced—he'd seen me through thick and thin.

"Would you state your name for the court please?"

"Duo Maxwell."

And so it began.

I told them everything. I told them I was Zechs' lover, and for how long, and that we'd made it exclusive. And then, I told them about the night he died.

Funny, but I don't really remember what I said, or how I phrased anything. It just rolled off my tongue—the whole story—right down to Khushrenada's bullshit about it being a "matter of honor" when he pulled the trigger.

I even managed to look the bastard in the eye when I quoted his final words to Zechs.

Not that he cared. He looked back at me with nothing short of hatred in those steely eyes of his. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed of what he'd done. No—not him; he felt completely justified in executing my lover. He believed Zechs had wronged him, and that his life was forfeit as a result.

Hell, we weren't even speakin' the same language—Khushrenada and me.

I think that's when I stopped being intimidated by the sonofabitch. He was like a predator—one of the lions in Trowa's circus. He'd take down anything he considered prey with no hesitation and no remorse. The bastard couldn't even _feel_.

I might've pitied him, if he was worth that much effort, but he wasn't.

Anyhow, Noventa moved in close while I was trying to regain my composure, and patted one of my hands. "You got him, Duo," he whispered. "It's all over now."

And just like that, he settled my nerves. Yes, it _was_ all over. I'd said my peace in front of the jury—told everything just like it happened. The running and hiding were over; and hopefully, so was Khushrenada's reign. The syndicate would have no mercy for a general who was careless enough to get caught.

I almost wanted to smile, as Noventa continued asking rather trivial questions about how I recognized Khushrenada and Une at the penthouse. But he also made me talk about what I did and where I went after the murder, which brought back some pretty unpleasant memories. Talk about an emotional wringer!

The end result was, when the judge said we'd continue the next day, I wanted to collapse to the floor and sleep for a fuckin' week! I was beat—just plain worn out.

I was aware of Heero and Noventa talking about how I'd done on the stand, but I told the D.A. I just wanted to crash somewhere. I guess I'd slung an arm over Chang's shoulders at the time, and leaned against Heero the Rock—and that won me a sort of befuddled look from Noventa.

"You really trust these two, don't you?" he asked.

"With my life," I told him, trying not to yawn aloud. "Repeatedly."

Oh God, how I wanted to curl up in Heero's arms right then. I felt safe and loved and exhausted beyond belief.

Of course, I didn't get to rest right away. First there was a little chit chat in Noventa's office, where we kinda went over how I'd done and what I might have to face on cross-examination. Then Wufei went off to round up some food, and I got Noventa to agree we were both too tired to do any more trial preparation right then.

He escorted 'Ro and me to a lounge, where there was a couch I couldn't wait to get better acquainted with—and finally I was alone with my lover. "Alone at last."

I loved the way Heero's eyes lit up when I said that—and he rewarded me with a deliciously intense kiss and a wonderful massage of my shoulders. God, it was heavenly. Just feeling his strong hands working at my weary muscles made me want to melt.

Of course, I also wanted to do other things—things I was far too weary to accomplish. And yet I was still tempted to lock the door and beg him to have his way with me. Maybe if he did all the work, I could at least feel him inside me—.

"Listen, love. Much as I hate to bring up an unpleasant subject, we do need to talk about tomorrow."

Well, wasn't that a fine way to rain on my parade?

"Don't wanna."

And I liked it even less when the unpleasant subject was the blonde bimbo from the hallway. Heero didn't think I should mention her relationship to Zechs in my testimony. But of course, the minute he phrased it that way and I made a wry comment about Zechs having family in the police department, a big, fat light bulb went off over my head.

_Fucking shit!_ The reason Khushrenada thought Zechs had gone to the police was because one of his spies had seen him with _her_.

The stupid bitch who'd nearly broken us up was also responsible for Zechs' murder!

Oh that was a fuckin' bitter pill to swallow. I never liked irony very much—especially when I felt like I was the butt of its joke.

And as Heero and I talked, there seemed to be one irony on top of another. Relena had gone to see Zechs out of curiosity, only to inadvertently set him up as a traitor to Oz. On top of that, she and Zechs had never planned to meet again; Zechs had told me they were too different. Had they not been seen that one time, he might never have ended up dead.

Then Heero let slip that Relena was the one who'd been tipping Khushrenada's people off to our whereabouts while we were in hiding! It just didn't make sense that Zechs' own sister would sabotage the case against his killer.

At least, it didn't until Yuy told me she'd been trying to hide the fact that she'd been to the penthouse, so no one would know she and Zechs were related—that the police chief's daughter was half sister to the most notorious crime lord in the city.

Heero promised me she'd get what was coming to her, though, and his word was good enough for me. Especially when he followed it up with a kiss that could've made me forget my own name.

The man was just too good to me.

And when I told him he was all I needed to keep me happy for the rest of my life, I thought he'd spontaneously combust, he blushed so hard.

Then Chang showed up to ruin our cozy, intimate moment. And the only reason I didn't bitch at him for that was 'cause he brought dinner. _And _Quatre, Trowa and Catherine.

We had a helluva night, the six of us, sharing Chinese food and fortune cookies. Tro' an' me taught the others how to spice up their fortunes by adding "in bed" to the end, and had a great time reading them out loud.

It was kind of a sad commentary on how worn out I was when I was the first one to crash. I'd ended up stretched on the couch with my head on 'Ro's lap, and the next thing I knew, it was morning, and the others were long gone, and I had to get up and dress and get ready for my cross-examination.

_Well, shit._


	48. Shark Attack

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This fits with chapter fifty eight of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Forty Eight: Shark Attack

I had another attack of nerves while I was getting ready to face the judge and jury yet again, but of course Yuy and Chang talked me down and helped me pull myself together.

I think I even managed to make Noventa think I was calm, cool, and collected as we made our way to the courtroom.

Not that my composure lasted long. I got up on that stand, and Tsubarov just came at me like a freakin' pit bull!

It started with the sarcastic way he said "_Mister _Maxwell," as if I didn't quite deserve such a polite title—damn him—and it went downhill from there.

I didn't mind tellin' the jury I'd danced at a gay nightclub. In fact, I was kinda proud of that fact; I'd had quite a following there, back in the day. And when I corrected the nasty lawyer on his use of the term "stripper" I think I even got a smirk or two from the jurors.

But after that, I ended up on the defensive non-stop. Tsubarov had my juvenile records, and was determined to use them to tear down my character.

Noventa put up a good fight, objecting whenever the nasty defense attorney went overboard. But it was pretty hard for him to refute any of it, since it was the truth.

"I was a—difficult child, I guess."

Yeah, I _had _been a wild kid, and a rebel from birth. I'd lied, cheated, and stolen my way through my youth and into adulthood. There was no denying it.

But I didn't see why that had anything to do with what I'd witnessed. It wasn't like Khushrenada was a pillar of virtue either. Though he'd done a fine job of hiding the scope of his crimes, there was more than enough dirt to be dug up on him, too. The only trouble was, no one knew where to dig, and my crimes were a matter of public record.

Of course, when we got around to the question of _why _I'd led a less than honest life, I was growing tired of Tsubarov's sneering face.

"It beat the heck out of whoring."

"So you had a basis for comparison, eh?"

Oh, cheap shot!

But even then, I managed not to lose it completely. I told the fucker I hadn't personally tried it, but that I'd seen what happened to other kids, and I'd have done anything to avoid it.

Then the fucking sonofabitch accused me of killing Zechs! He actually tried to suggest I did it because Zechs had tried to recruit me for a brothel!

Yeah, that pretty much did it for me; my composure was shot to Hell.

As far as I knew, Zechs didn't own any brothels, and I said as much. I also said he'd never, ever asked me to whore for him. And then the smarmy lawyer went and said that sleeping with the man who paid my wages was pretty much the same thing.

He called me a whore.

I saw red at that, and before I knew it, I was on my feet and a coupla bailiffs were headed my way.

"Sit _down_, Mister Maxwell!"

The judge's sharp tone cut through my outrage, but it was only when Heero caught my eye and gave me a smile and a nod, that I was able to get a grip on my temper and slowly settle back into my seat.

Jesus Christ, Tsubarov knew how to bait me, didn't he? And I wished I knew how. Khushrenada didn't know me well enough to realize I hated being mistaken for a hooker. But apparently Tsubarov had gotten to someone who did.

I didn't have time to think about it, since the judge gave me a perfectly scathing look and a short lecture on behaving.

I scowled back at her and simply said "yes, ma'am," instead of "fuck you."

She gave a similar warning to the asshole defense lawyer and then let him loose on me again.

"Could you please answer that last question, _Mister _Maxwell?"

_Again with the tone!_

"If you answer one for me," I countered. "If you're paid to make sure Khushrenada 'gets off,' doesn't that make you a whore too?"

Well, shit if _that _didn't start the room buzzing again.

"Your Honor—," Noventa pleaded. "If I could have a moment with the witness—?"

Yeah, I figured he wanted to smack some sense into me. Not that I could really blame him; I was fucking up right and left, but Tsubarov had me so pissed off I didn't care.

"I want you both in my chambers immediately."

_Oh, kinky judge!_ I couldn't help a little idle speculation on what went on behind closed doors in her chambers.

"Mister Maxwell."

I peeked up from under my bangs, fully aware that she was angry at my snide response to Tsubarov's taunting questions.

"You are the witness—not the attorney. He's to ask the questions, and you are to provide the answers, to the best of your ability. You are not to ask questions in return—nor should you take his questions personally."

Well it was pretty hard not to, when the fucker called me a whore—but I knew where she was comin' from, so I took the scolding in stride.

"I'm sorry, Your Honor," I lied, determined to salvage what I could of the situation.

While the court took its recess, a bailiff ushered me to a quiet room off to the side, and I found myself blessedly alone for a minute.

I took advantage of that fact, and closed my eyes, thinking back to my meditation sessions with Chang, and trying to find that "calm center" he'd talked about. I pictured the blue of Heero's eyes, and remembered the sound of the ocean, and for a moment I wasn't in a hostile courtroom being picked apart by a shark of a lawyer.

The tap on the door actually startled me out of my reverie, and I went back out feeling a bit more in control of myself. I allowed myself a quick glance at Heero, just to feel grounded again, and I was ready to continue when Tsubarov came in swinging.

He went after me for not reporting the crime I'd witnessed to the police, and I countered by telling him Zechs had claimed Khushrenada had officers on the payroll.

After he relegated that reply to "hearsay," he nagged me some more, asking if I ever would have come forward at all, if the cops hadn't caught me.

_Of course not!_

I could tell Noventa was both puzzled by the line of questioning and worried, when he kept objecting and asking how it was relevant to the case. But Tsubarov said he was through with it, and the judge let him proceed.

Then he asked about my temper.

_What the fuck?_

When he said something about a statement given by Hilde Schbeiker, I had no idea what was coming next.

"Do you recall an altercation you had with Zechs Merquise about a week prior to his death, Mister Maxwell?"

"Altercation?"

"According to Miss Schbeiker, you and Mister Merquise had a rather violent encounter in the hallway outside her dressing room at Sanc."

I flashed back to the night after I'd caught Zechs with Relena, and how he'd shown up at Sanc trying to get me to talk to him. I'd shoved him away from me, and he'd shoved back; but beyond that, it was kind of a blur. I was so hurt and angry at the time, that I honestly couldn't recall what we'd each said or done.

I just know I'd ended up storming out and taking off on the bike to get away from him for a few hours. I got chewed out by Dermail for that the next night, too, and docked the previous day's wages.

"—and then you punched him, slammed him against the wall and said 'if you don't stay the fuck away from me, I'll kill you.' Do you recall making that statement, _Mister _Maxwell?"

_Fuck, no._

But it sure seemed to set off everyone in the courtroom, and Noventa was yelling for a recess, even as the judge was banging her gavel for order.

She ended up calling that recess he wanted, and the look on his face when he gestured me to follow him made me wish I could crawl under my chair and hide. He was flaming _pissed_.

He pretty much shoved me into his office, and I was glad Heero and Wufei were there with us when he pushed me into a chair and stood glaring down. "What the fuck was _that_, Maxwell?"

"What?"

Seriously. _What?_

I didn't really see what my argument with Zechs had to do with anything. So we'd broken up for a few days; we'd made up by the night he was murdered.

"What's your excuse, Yuy—Chang?" he snapped, turning on my protectors. "Or do you want to plead ignorance as well?"

'Ro at least seemed to know why the D.A. was so mad, while I was still groping for a clue. But it annoyed me that my lover seemed to be getting his ass chewed for something that hadn't been his fault.

"Hey, what's the big deal?" I demanded. "So Zechs and I had a little spat. So what? It has nothing to do with my witnessing his murder."

"No—but it has plenty to do with motive!"

And suddenly I caught on. "Are you saying you think _I _killed Zechs?"

"No—but the defense team is! And if they convince the jury it's even an outside possibility, we'll never get a conviction against Khushrenada."

I felt the blood drain from my face at the thought that this might all have been for nothing. All the running and hiding—and the goddamned defense lawyers could use a stupid lovers' squabble to muddy up the waters and get Khushrenada off the hook?

Jesus, I felt sick to my stomach.

It was good ol' Heero who came to my rescue, again. He told Noventa all the reasons I couldn't possibly have killed Zechs, and finally got the D.A. to pull his head out of his ass and let me tell him about the fight.

So I did; I explained about seeing Zechs with a blonde woman and how I blew a gasket over it and took off. And then I told him that my lover had called all night, and when I failed to answer, had come to my workplace the next evening to find me. I honestly didn't remember what was said in our little tirade—but when I pointed out how hurt and pissed off I'd been, Noventa admitted I might have said stupid shit I didn't mean.

He was still not happy with me. I guess he didn't like surprises being revealed on the witness stand. But when Heero and Wufei explained that they'd had to hurry to protect me, and couldn't consider me a suspect after the bomb blast, he cheered up a bit and made some notes.

Great—he was gonna grill me again, I just knew it.

But at least he'd gotten over his fit of temper. Or at least, he did until Heero and Wufei decided on complete disclosure and told him about Relena's part in the whole mess.

He was working up to another bout of apoplexy when the court clerk came and told us the judge was waiting. That spurred him into action, and he settled for promising Heero an ass-reaming later for his failure to speak up sooner.

I teased the crap out of him about his choice of words, diverting a bit of his anger onto myself so I could catch his attention long enough to tell him 'Ro and 'Fei had only just found out about Relena the day before. It wasn't like they'd had lots of time to fill him in.

He simmered down, dragging me back towards the courtroom so fast I had to nearly jog to keep up.

"Just promise me, Maxwell—when I get you back on that stand, do _not _give me anything other than yes or no answers."

"Yessir." I looked back over my shoulder to share a conspiratorial wink with Heero.

And then the world exploded in pain! I turned to find Une standing in front of Noventa and me, with a viciously smug smile on her face, and complete hatred glittering in her eyes. Her gaze slid down my chest, and I followed it, only to see the hilt of a knife protruding from my midsection, surrounded by a rapidly-spreading pool of blood.

_Well, fuck me..._

And then everything started fading to shades of grey, and I felt myself falling...

There were a few disjointed images after that—Heero's face hovering over me, and his hand brushing the hair back from my eyes—and it hurt _so _fucking much to breathe!

I felt like I was drowning—like there was a heavy weight on my chest and I couldn't draw in any air. And then I coughed and felt fire lance through me.

Heero's arms were around me—at least I thought they were—and I wanted so much to tell him I loved him. But then it was all blackness and pain and I was too exhausted to fight against it any more.


	49. Life After Death

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This more or less fits with chapters sixty one and sixty two of Witness, timewise. And I'm posting this as the second chapter today, because I can't leave you with Duo "dead." That's just cruel.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Forty Nine: Life After Death

It was like climbing out of a very deep, very dark tunnel. I knew I needed to be somewhere—needed to wake up—but I couldn't seem to muster the energy.

I guess maybe I did briefly achieve consciousness—to find I couldn't make a sound, as there was a plastic tube down my throat, and myriads of wires taped to my chest and arms and places I couldn't even see.

When I moved my head a bit, there was a sudden flurry of activity, and hands pressing down on my shoulders to keep me still, and I gave up trying to stay awake and let myself sink back into the nice peaceful darkness.

The next time I woke up, it was a little easier. The lethargy seemed less intense, and the climb to awareness a bit shorter.

But I still had that damnable tube down my throat, which hurt like a bitch—and I was hooked up to so many machines it's a wonder I didn't need a private power generator to run 'em.

I tried to make a noise, but it came out more like a whimper, and a cool hand settled on my forehead.

"Shh—don't fight the breathing tube—you'll only irritate your throat even more. We'll have it out soon, if you keep up the good progress."

It was a female voice that I'd never heard before, and I desperately wanted Heero. I wanted to know where I was, and how I'd gotten there, and exactly what had happened to me.

I struggled to raise a hand, but didn't have the strength.

Only another street rat would've known how terrifying it was to be in a position of such complete helplessness. I just fucking panicked, and started thrashing around, wanting to escape the wires and tubes and find a safe place to hole up until I could figure out what was happening.

Of course, my wild struggles just wore me out, and over the sound of panicked voices I heard something about a sedative, and then sank yet again into the dark void.

It was the third time I regained consciousness that I finally got some answers.

Agent Alexander was standing at my bedside, his brow drawn together in a scowl. "So—back among the living, I see."

I blinked, trying to focus my eyes a little better. And when I swallowed, I realized that damnable tube was gone.

Of course, my throat also felt like it'd been filled with razors, so my first attempt to speak had me clutching blindly at it and gasping in pain.

"Easy," chided the FBI agent. "They only took you off the respirator yesterday."

I glared up at him, rubbing a hand gingerly over my neck.

"Here," he said, holding a cup to my lips.

I grudgingly accepted a mouthful of ice chips, and let the cold, soothing liquid slowly drain from my mouth into my raw throat.

"I suppose you have some questions," Alexander continued, looking far too smug and amused for my liking.

Of course, he was FBI—I hated him just on principle.

"It's been about a week since Une attacked you at the courthouse."

I felt my eyes widen as I suddenly recalled her stepping up and stabbing me right at the door to the courtroom. I tried to say "bitch," but all that came out was a ragged, painful croak. And it hurt so fuckin' bad I ended up clutching my neck until the discomfort eased up enough for me to breathe again.

"Don't try to talk right now," Alexander sighed, helping me to some more ice chips. "Just listen. You're dead, Maxwell."

I looked sharply at him, taking his words as a threat of some kind, but he shook his head.

"What I mean is, when the paramedics took you from the courthouse to the hospital, my people claimed jurisdiction; attacking a protected witness is a federal crime. While the surgeons were working on you, I told Captain Po to step aside." He gave a small, tight smile. "Then I told her you died on the table."

I know I was gaping at him by then.

"It wasn't much of a stretch, you know," he added conversationally. "Your heart stopped once before the paramedics got to you, once on the way to the hospital, and a third time in surgery. It was touch and go there."

No shit. Now that he'd brought it up, I could remember flashes of pain and intermittent consciousness during the first moments after the attack. It started coming back to me in bits and pieces.

"As far as the world is concerned," he said with a shrug. "Duo Maxwell is dead."

The _world_? As in—_everyone_?

I didn't care if it was gonna hurt to talk. "Heero—?" I rasped out in a ragged whisper.

"Everyone. Barton, Winner, Yuy, Chang, Noventa, Tsubarov—and Treize Khushrenada."

I shook my head—not so much in denial, but in disbelief that they could've pulled off such a hoax. How fuckin' ruthless _were _these people—that they'd lie to my loved ones, as well as the general public? For fuck's sake, they'd lied to the police and the district attorney!

"I know it sounds cold," Alexander admitted. "But it's for the best. As long as everyone thinks you're dead, no one will be trying to finish the job for Une. We can hide you someplace safe until the case against Oz is air tight, and present you when federal charges are leveled against Khushrenada and his cohorts."

Oh, _now _I knew what his game was. The FBI had, for all intents and purposes, fuckin' kidnapped me! They'd spirited me away, and told everyone I'd ever known I was dead—just so they could spring me as a surprise witness later on.

I lunged up at Alexander, trying to get my hands around his throat, but frankly, I was far too weak to even complete the gesture. Granted, I succeeded in tangling my i.v. lines around his wristwatch; but that was about it.

Fucking hell! Heero thought I was dead! _Trowa _thought I was dead.

I closed my eyes, determined not to cry in front of the asshole who'd orchestrated this whole charade. But my throat was just choked with emotion as I pictured Heero's face when they'd told him I was dead.

God, the poor man must've been—unthinkably hurt.

A sob wracked my body, and I felt a stab of pain from my midsection that had me gasping in shock.

"Maxwell, would you just simmer down?" Alexander snapped, still trying to fix the mess I'd made of my tubes and wires. "Nurse!"

A uniformed nurse appeared at his elbow, hastily checking me over and clucking her disapproval. "I told you not to let him get agitated, Agent Alexander. He needs rest. By rights, he should be in a hospital—not a private care facility like this—."

"I'll thank you to just do your job," he replied stiffly. "There are reasons for this man to be where he is."

She shook her head. "Yes I know. Your superiors made it very clear—the confidentiality clause." Her stern gaze fixed on Alexander, and I would have cheered her on, if my throat hadn't been so uncomfortable. "I don't care who this patient is, or what your agency is up to—I won't have you agitating him to the point of re-injuring himself."

_So there!_

She shoved him firmly out of her way, and pointed to the door, and damned if the tough-guy Fed didn't tuck his tail between his legs and beat feet out of there.

I was actually beginning to like the stern-faced nurse. She reminded me of one of the nuns at the orphanage. Not Sister Helen—who was much softer and gentler. This chick reminded me of Sister Agnesine—a stone-cold bitch in a habit. That woman _always _got what she wanted, and she had the broken rulers to prove it.

The nurse was looking oddly at me, her expression a bit softer. "Are you feeling better, young man? You're smiling."

"Like the way you told 'im off," I whispered carefully, giving her a genuine grin.

She hid a smirk and covered it by checking my pulse and blood pressure. "I don't tolerate interference with my job," she said simply. "He was in the way."

"Always is," I agreed.

I wanted to talk to her more—to see if I could enlist her aid in getting a message to Heero, to let him know I was alive. But my abused throat wasn't up to the task yet, so I simply cooperated with her efforts to examine my bandages and monitors, hoping to earn a few brownie points for being a good patient.

I could bide my time, for now.


	50. Making Deals with the Devil

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This more or less fits with chapters sixty two and sixty three of Witness, timewise.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty: Making Deals with the Devil

Dear Diary:

I could compare bargaining with the FBI to selling your soul to Satan, but that'd be a gross insult to the residents of Hell. The Feds were ten times worse to dicker with, and a hundred times less savory to be around.

Not that I'm sayin' I ever sold my soul or nothin'. But I'd come close enough to feel like trading favors with Alexander was a fair comparison.

First, when he came back after I'd regained my voice and a smidgen of my strength, he brought along a goon with scissors to cut my hair, citing the need for anonymity where I was going.

I told him to take his anonymity and shove it where the sun don't shine—or come a little closer and let me enjoy doing it!

I thought I was gonna lose that battle, too. Because in all honesty, they could've overpowered me and done it without my consent.

But I swore on my mother's grave (not that I'd ever known who she was, but Alexander didn't know that) if they cut off the braid, they'd never get a single word of testimony out of me, and I'd cut off their balls while they slept.

Even Feds gotta sleep sometime…

So, Round One went to Maxwell.

Then I told Alexander to get me a fuckin' phone so I could let my friends know I was alive.

I about shit when he told me they'd already had a funeral, said their goodbyes, and moved on.

"Don't you think it'd be crueler at this point, to tell them it was all a hoax?" he asked.

"No, I don't!" I argued. "Trust me, Trowa'd want to know I'm still breathing. The guy's gotta be going through Hell about now." Not to mention what Heero was suffering; but I couldn't tell that to Alexander without revealing our relationship. And I'd be damned if I was gonna "out" Heero to a bunch of pansy-assed Feds.

"Your friend Barton is, at this moment, preparing to testify against that Schbeiker woman who screwed your case."

"Huh?"

"The trial's resuming any day now, and the word from Noventa is that Barton can verify that you not only weren't capable of murdering Merquise, even in a fit of temper, but that you'd patched things up with him the night of his death."

"Yeah, I had," I said weakly. "Tro's gonna tell 'em?"

"Yes. And this is no time to rattle his cage, Maxwell. He needs to focus on the trial."

The bastard had a point. I didn't want to mess with Trowa's head just before he was gonna have to deal with that Tsubarov asshole.

So Round Two went to Alexander, dammit.

"But, eventually—I'll be able to contact him again, right?" I asked.

Alexander was shaking his head dubiously. "Not in the near future," he said flatly. "You've got to stay hidden until everything's settled. It's safer for you, as well as your friends. We've got Trant tucked away, too, and he's gonna spill all he knows about the syndicate and Khushrenada's involvement with it. You may or may not have a part to play in that trial, depending on whether they convict Khushrenada of Merquise's murder."

"And how long will all that shit take?"

"Months— maybe years."

Right. As if I was gonna hang tight with a couple of FBI watchdogs that long? Psh—_not_! Nor was I gonna live without my blue-eyed cop a minute longer than I had to.

But I didn't argue the point with Alexander right then. I didn't want him to know just how hard it was gonna be to keep Duo Maxwell on ice.

"Years," I sighed, pretending to relent.

An idea had begun to take shape in my head—one that might help me hook up with Heero, if I could manage the timing.

So I fixed Alexander with my most beguiling look—the one where I shyly peer up through my bangs and look like a soulful little kid. (Oh yeah, I was fully aware of my charm, and what I could do with it.)

"Could you do me one favor then? And it's the last thing I'll ask for, besides some decent music to listen to while I'm off in hiding with your goons."

Sure of his victory, he gave a reluctant smile and shake of his head. "What is it?"

"I told Quatre—Mister Winner—I wanted to be cremated. Would you tell him to give the ashes to Detective Yuy?"

Alexander looked baffled by my request, and I hastily formulated an excuse to give him even before he asked the obvious question. "Why would Yuy want the ashes?"

"'Cause after all he an' Chang and I went through, we kinda bonded," I told him. And that was true enough. "I told Yuy stuff. He's probably the only one who'd know where I want my ashes dumped."

"But you technically haven't died," Alexander pointed out. "What difference does it make?"

"You think my friends won't realize something's out of whack if my final wishes aren't followed?" I pointed out.

"And how will I explain to Winner that you specifically wanted Yuy to take the ashes?" he countered, a troubled frown creasing his forehead. "Why don't I just give them to _him_?"

"No!" I yelped in protest. That wouldn't do at all! "He doesn't know where I'd want them taken. Yuy does. And he'll know something's off if you just give 'em to Winner. You've got to tell him I wanted Yuy to take them."

"And how will I explain that to Winner? When would you have told me?"

"That's your problem," I shrugged, trying not to let on why this was so important to me. "Tell him I managed a few last words or something. I dunno. Just make sure when you give him a box of what's supposed to be my ashes, you get him to promise he'll get them to Heero."

"_Heero_?" Alexander's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

_Oops._

"Jesus Christ, Al," I blurted, using the nickname to wear him down a bit. "Yes, I called him Heero. And I called his partner Wufei—or Wuffers—or 'Fei-fei—depending on my mood. We were all on a first name basis!"

Alexander shook his head and shrugged. "Fine then. Have it your way. I'll give Winner a box of ashes to dispose of. And I'll tell him you asked on your death bed for them to go to Yuy."

"—because he'll know where to take 'em."

"Whatever." He fixed me with a stern look. "You know that'll only reinforce the notion that you're dead."

"I know."

"Thought you didn't want your friends to buy into it."

"You haven't given me much of a choice."

And so Round Three went resoundingly to Maxwell—the Master of Manipulation.

I had my plan firmly in mind by then. Heero would get the ashes, and if I was any judge of character, he'd head for Euphoria with them. It was a special place—a haven of peace along our troubled journey—and the place where he'd proposed.

It just _had _to stick out in his mind as the one spot I'd like to spend eternity. But what I really wanted was to spend my eternity with him, no matter where we ended up. Like I said before, I couldn't imagine living without him, now that I'd had a taste of what true love was like.

I was totally spoiled for anyone else. Ever. And if it took the rest of my life, I was gonna have Heero back in my arms come Hell or high water!

But before all that, my first agenda was to heal up and get back in shape so I could make my escape from FBI clutches before another crooked agent took a notion to finish me off.

Hey, I didn't delude myself into thinking that just because I'd testified against Khushrenada, my life was no longer in danger. Obviously Alexander thought it was. And considering his plans for my future testimony, it seemed pretty obvious to me that _someone _would want me dead.

Knowing what I did about how deep Oz's tendrils extended into the Bureau, I had no doubt that if I trusted them to protect me, I'd never live to see the inside of a courtroom again. Not if what I knew could in any way harm the syndicate.

Fuck, but I was tired of being a target.


	51. On the Mend

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This more or less fits with chapters sixty three and sixty four of Witness, timewise.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty One: On the Mend

Y'know what, Diary?

Lying around in a hospital bed recuperating is fucking boring as hell. Seemed like it took forever before they started getting rid of some of the wires and monitors, and even longer before they let me eat solid food and take a piss by myself. It was worse than the hovering 'Ro had done at the beginning of our road trip.

Seriously, if I hadda eat one more cup of green jello, or use a bedpan one more time—I think I'da gone nuts.

And since there was no window in my room, I wasn't even really sure of the passage of time. One day sort of blurred into the next.

But finally—_finally_—the nurse started helpin' me get out of bed and walk to the bathroom. Then they dispensed with the i.v. when I started eating soup and soft foods like mashed potatoes and gravy.

And eventually, I even got a shower! A blessed shower.

Hot water _never _felt so damned good!

I coulda spent a week under that soothing spray, lathering up my hair (which was totally disgusting after all that time without proper care) and letting the water rinse away that horrid hospital smell.

It was almost a religious experience—a close second—. Okay—a _distant _second to having sex with Heero.

_Heero_.

I didn't even want to think how much my lover was beating himself up over my death. I knew his capacity for guilt, and how totally responsible he'd felt for my well-being. He'd be hating himself for what had happened.

I wished I could let him know, it hadn't been his fault. None of us saw it coming—not Noventa, who was right there beside me—and not _me_, the one who was usually so good at lookin' out for himself.

Une was a malicious bitch. That much was certain.

I ran a hand over my stomach—over the newly-healed skin where the knife had gone in, and where the surgeons had opened me up to patch the gash in my lung. Alexander told me it'd missed my heart by less than an inch, and that if it hadn't, even the best surgeon in the world wouldn't have been able to save me.

_Close, indeed!_

I didn't like to contemplate how very close I'd come to dying (yet again)—not when I had so much to live for. The trial was over for me; my testimony had been given. All that remained was for me to reunite with Heero, and life would be perfect. Euphoric, even.

I hoped my lover would forgive me.

Not that it was my fault Alexander pulled the wool over everyone's eyes. But I already knew there was no way I could contact Heero until the verdict was in for the Khushrenada case.

And it wasn't just that I knew the Feds would watch me like a hawk; that was a given.

It was because I knew that until Khushrenada's fate was sealed, contacting Heero would just make me a target again. And worse, it would make my friends targets.

As long as Alexander was the only one who knew I was alive, I was more or less safe, and my loved ones were, too.

Okay—I'm realistic here. I knew full well that Alexander wasn't going to personally oversee hiding me out. That meant that he'd turn me over to other agents. And while I was reasonably sure _he _was on the up and up (hey, he coulda pulled the plug on me plenty of times in that hospital room if he'd been out to kill me), I had no such confidence in his cohorts.

I know I'm sounding like a broken record—but the FBI was corrupt—riddled with people on Oz's payroll. Aside from Alexander, there wasn't a single agent I'd trust to so much as watch my fuckin' dog.

(Yes, I know I didn't have one—but it was a good analogy anyway—and maybe Heero and I would have one some day, when all this was over.)

When I came out of the bathroom, winding my hair into its characteristic braid, Alexander was sitting on the edge of the bed with a bag in his hand.

"Doughnuts?" I said hopefully, giving him a wry smile and tightening my grip on my towel.

"Better," he assured me. "Clothes."

He tossed the bag and I caught it, feeling the reassuring bulk of something other than a flimsy hospital gown.

"Cool." I went around to the other side of the bed and started pulling things out of the bag.

There were jeans—baggy and nondescript—and a flannel shirt, a hoodie, wool socks, underwear, and a pair of sneakers.

_Not_ cool.

"Uhm, Al? I'll look like a total dork in these clothes, y'know," I told him, eyeing the flannel shirt with almost as much distaste as the skirt Cathy had made me wear.

"That's the idea," he told me, smirking a bit. "You need to blend in—to be inconspicuous—for the drive to the safe house."

I looked up quickly. "We're leavin' the hospital?"

He nodded. "Technically, this isn't a hospital. It's a convalescent home. And I've managed to keep it so the only one who's laid eyes on you is the private nurse we hired. Since she's actually a medic for another branch of the service, we can rely on her silence."

"Yeah, it's not _your _life," I pointed out, sighing and beginning to dress in the totally unflattering clothes he'd brought me.

I didn't realize I'd embarrassed him by unceremoniously dropping my towel, until he turned sharply away. And I smirked to myself as I pulled on the boxers—freakin' _boxers_, for Heaven's sake. It looked like I'd stumbled across another prude like Chang.

I stored that information for future use, determined to use it to torment him after he'd subjected me to such a horrific outfit. I mean, _flannel_? I was no lumberjack, and I truly resented being dressed like one!

"All done," I told him as I tucked in the shirt and rolled up the sleeves. "You can turn around now, Miss Priss."

He glared across at me, his gaze raking over the outfit appraisingly. "Good. You don't look so much like Duo Maxwell now." He tossed a wallet onto the bed. "There's a driver's license in there under the name John Smythe. That'll be your new alias."

"Smythe?" I rolled my eyes. "Why not just make it 'Smith,' for fuck's sake? You think you'll fool anyone with Smythe?"

"Maxwell, I could fool someone with the name John _Smith_. There's a reason it's used as a cover—there are hundreds of thousands of very _real _John Smiths out there."

"Fine. But you tell your agents to call me Solo," I ordered. "At least that's a name I might recognize and respond to."

"Solo?" He gave a shrug. "I suppose in relocation you could use it as a nickname. But your official one will still be John Smythe."

I picked up the wallet and looked at the fake i.d., sighing as I realized it was almost the same as the ugly DMV picture on my real one. "Could've at least used one of the shots from The Jungle. They don't look so much like mug shots."

Alexander was smirking again. "That _is _a mug shot, Maxwell. We pulled it from your police record."

"Asshole."

So, I bid goodbye to my "hospital," feeling a teensy bit sorry I didn't get to thank the nurse who'd taken pretty good care of me, in spite of my impatience at the length of my stay. She'd put up with a lotta shit from me, 'cause I was anything but a cooperative patient. I hoped they'd paid her plenty for that.

It was dark outside when Alexander led me to a plain black car, and though it was nice to see the stars and feel fresh air on my face, I realized I honestly had no idea where we were.

That fact sorta shook me. I'd assumed they kept me somewhere close to the city, and that I could easily get my bearings. But our location was typical of any of a million suburban locales. I had no clue how I was gonna get to Euphoria once I slipped my leash.


	52. Hiding Out with Larry and Moe

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This more or less fits with chapters sixty three and sixty four of Witness, timewise.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty Two: Hiding Out with Larry and Moe

God, Diary, my two babysitters are assholes!

Really. You have no _idea _the crap I've had to put up with.

Had I known I was going to be cooped up with two of the three Stooges, I'd never have let Alexander leave me here with these morons!

They suck at everything from cooking (burned _water_, for Christ's sake), to fixing things (the t.v. didn't work at first, and turned out it was simply not plugged in), to setting up security (their idea of a "perimeter" is to walk around the fenced-in yard once a day).

They suck at poker, too. I already cleaned 'em out of their disposable income, so they won't let me play any more. Sore losers!

They seem to take their protective duty as something of a joke—preferring to watch the ball games on television over keeping an eye on the neighborhood.

And we _are _in a neighborhood—an actual suburban housing development.

It's kind of a weird place to be holed up in hiding—at least compared to where 'Ro and 'Fei hid me.

I mean, shit. Both Davis and Webster let me go out on a regular basis—to poke around the yard or take the garbage to the curb when they're too lazy.

I got to meet the kid next door yesterday, when his football sailed over the fence while I was poking in the tool shed to see what kind of emergency supplies I might scrape up to take with me when I bolt. And yes, I'm planning to do it the very minute I know the outcome of Khushrenada's trial.

Davis was with me, of course, sitting in a lawn chair and reading his paper. The one thing those two numbnuts do right is to stay within sight of me at all times when we're outside. Inside, on the other hand, is another story—they totally ignore me, except to call me to meals or tell me to turn my music down. (Yeah, I made Alexander supply me with a boom box and a bunch of decent rock cds, per our deal at the convalescent home.)

That's okay, though. They're not exactly the kind of people I want to interact with—at all. On top of being flaming idiots, both Webster and Davis are raving homophobes—worse than Chang, for fuck's sake.

They've tried not to be obvious about it—at least Davis has—but Webster wouldn't even shake my hand when Alexander introduced us. And he continues to avoid any and all physical contact. Even when I help with the supper dishes, he won't hand them directly to me, but will set them in the sink and make me pick them up myself to dry them. As if I'm "unclean," or somethin'.

What a jerk.

I'd be tempted to tease and torment him the way I did Chang—but I can't see any of the potential in him that I saw in the uptight Chinese detective.

Even from the get-go, Chang had more goin' for him. Although he was a homophobe, it was obvious he was also smart, self-assured, and very, very competent. _Hot_, too.

Webster's just mean, intolerant, and classless.

And Davis? He's beyond lazy. His picture should be in the dictionary next to "sloth." (No insult to the animal intended.)

Of course, considering both guys are chubby, out of shape, and pea-brained, I dunno what else I could expect—except to find out they're also on the take.

Yeah, wouldn't surprise me in the least.

In fact, I overheard the name Sims in one of their conversations yesterday, which made my ears perk right up.

We'd just eaten lunch, and since I'd made it, the food was actually palatable. So instead of hiding out by the television, I was cleaning up my cooking utensils.

"Y'heard about Sims, didn't ya?" Davis asked Webster.

"Hm? Y'mean that he up an' got himself blown away. Yeah."

"They're keepin' it pretty quiet though."

Webster just shrugged.

"I'da thought you'd give a shit—didn't you two work together back in D.C.?"

"Long time ago."

"Still—I'd think you'd wanna know what happened."

"Heard it was a drug bust gone wrong—buncha agents died. Sims' whole crew and a few civilians."

"More than I've heard—," Davis admitted, fixing his attention on finishing his third helping of the soup I'd made. "Pretty good shit, Solo. Y'make this from scratch?" he asked.

I twitched uneasily, not happy to have him turn his attention back to me when I'd been riveted on the subject of their discussion. "Uh, yeah. I used to cook for my _boyfriend _all the time. He said I was great in the kitchen." I smirked evilly over my shoulder at Webster, who'd fixed a very cold look on me. "The bedroom, too. Or the back seat of a car—."

The chubby homophobe got up and stalked out before I could start adding details. Dammit.

Davis just shook his head and went back to eating his seconds (or was it _thirds_?), effectively tuning me out.

I watched Webster slip out the back door and head for the tool shed, wondering if his past association with Sims was really in the past. And I made myself a solemn promise not to let him get me alone.

Not that I trust Davis, either. But there's just enough friction between the two of them to make me think they aren't in cahoots. At least I _hope_ not.

God, I've gotta get outta here!


	53. 101 Uses for Duct Tape

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This more or less fits with chapter sixty five of Witness, timewise.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty Three: 101 Uses for Duct Tape

Jesus, it didn't take Webster long to show his true colors. And sometimes I really, really hate being right…

I'd been sort of keeping track of the Khushrenada case, watching the news broadcasts and just about cheering out loud when the reporter said Winner's cross-examination made Hilde break down and cry on the stand.

The bitch _so _deserved it! I hadn't held a grudge over her tellin' Khushrenada's people about my phone call—but when she gave Tsubarov more ammo to use against me, I was flaming pissed.

And saying I'd threatened to kill Zechs was so over the top, I would've ripped her head off if I'd been able to get my hands on her. I didn't even _let _myself contemplate that if she hadn't fucked up my cross-examination, I wouldn't have had to leave the courtroom, and been in that hallway for Une to attack.

But it sounded like she got hers. The news people said she was facing prosecution for perjury, as well as conspiracy to commit murder. Yep, her phone call to Khushrenada made her an accessory when his hit men came after us at the log cabin. _Bitch_.

I hoped they found a nice foster home for the kid, though. It wasn't his fault his mom was pond scum. And he sure didn't deserve to suffer for her mistakes. Maybe when I could contact Quatre, I'd see if he'd ask Father Maxwell to take the kid into his orphanage. That was one place I knew a kid could get a decent start in life, if he was willing to take it.

Me, I'd been an exceptional case—streetwise before I'd ever entered the orphanage. It made it that much harder for Father Maxwell to teach me right from wrong and drill some sense into my thick skull.

But damn, eventually he did, didn't he?

At least, I _thought _I'd turned out okay. I wasn't in prison, or dead (not _literally _at least), or living on the streets. So that was all good.

And I had a gorgeous cop for a lover, and the best friends a guy could want. All in all, when you got right down to it, I was pretty lucky.

Anyhow, I saw the midday newscast where they said that closing arguments had been given, and the jury had been taken away to deliberate, and I wanted to stand up and cheer. I could actually see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Once the jury came back in, there'd be an end to the case—an end to everything. If they found Khushrenada innocent (_please, God—no_), he'd have no reason to come after me, 'cause he couldn't be charged with Zechs' murder more than once.

Although, knowing his penchant for revenge, I didn't think he'd let an infraction like testifying against him go unpunished. Good thing he thought I was dead, huh?

On the other hand, if they found the bastard guilty, he'd be locked up for good, and I honestly couldn't see what use the Feds would have for me beyond that. I didn't know much about Oz besides what Zechs had let slip here and there. And they had Trant tucked away to provide the real meaty stuff—right?

_Wrong_.

Alexander called a few days after closing arguments, to tell my two babysitters that Trant's team had been compromised (as in "killed along _with _him") and to beef up security for me. They promptly scurried about doing as he ordered (which was the most activity I'd seen outta them all week), while he got me on the phone and told me I was going to be moved shortly—as soon as he could set up a more secure location.

I tried to put a halt to his elaborate preparations by pointing out how freakin' useless I'd be in a federal case against Oz.

"I'm tellin' ya, Al—I don't know enough about the behind-the-scenes stuff to be any good as a witness," I argued. "You may as well just relocate me and give up on Oz."

"I'll _never _give up on Oz," he hissed angrily—the first true emotion I'd heard from the man. "I'll take the bastards down if it's the last thing I do!"

I frowned, wishing I could see his face through the damned phone. "So—spill it," I ordered. "What'd Oz do to you that's personal?"

"Nothing," came the short, sullen response.

"Right," I scoffed. "C'mon, buddy. You want my help, you gotta share. It's obvious you've got a real thirst for their blood. Why?"

"I—was married once," he said haltingly.

_Fuck—not another sad story like Chang's!_

"And what happened to her?" I asked with a sigh.

"Her and our son," he said flatly. "Officially, it was a car accident. But I'd been working the Oz case—getting close to nailing them for drug trafficking. Based on information I'd collected, we intercepted one of their ships coming into port, and found a fortune in cocaine on board. But the crew blew it to Hell before we could seize it for evidence. Cost us a bunch of good agents along with our conviction—but it also cost Oz _millions_ in profits. The next day I got a delivery of flowers at the office, with a sympathy card attached—." He paused, obviously gathering his thoughts. "I tried calling Jenny on her cell phone—but there was no answer. And before I could even leave my desk to tear out of there and find her, the hospital called—."

"Shit, man," I said hoarsely.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and then he continued. "So—don't give me any song and dance about how little you know, okay? You're all we've got, and I'm not fuckin' letting you go until Oz is history! Y'got that?"

"Yeah, I got it," I muttered.

Webster had just come back in from the garage, and gestured for the phone, so I made an exaggerated kissing noise and said "bye-bye" and "love ya, too" to Alexander, before passing the receiver over to the grimacing homophobe.

Then I headed for my room, figuring it was time to think about slipping my leash. The trial was over, and the verdict could come down any day. When it did, Alexander would move me again, and it sounded like he'd have a sharper team of agents to watch over me this time around.

And while I had some serious suspicions about Webster, and his past connection to Sims, I at least felt like I could handle the asshole. I didn't know about another team or different agents; they couldn't _all _be as lazy and stupid as these two, could they?

So, I threw my few belongings into the backpack Alexander had brought them in, and hung out in my room, thinking I'd wait for nightfall to make my escape.

'Course, things just never go as planned, do they?

Somewhere around supper time, Webster stuck his head in the door and gestured me to follow him.

"What's up?" I asked.

"There's a box out in the shed I need a hand with," he told me.

I looked at him warily. "Why can't Davis help you?"

"He's on the phone with his girlfriend."

"So tell him to call her back."

"He's working on supper, too. I figure he may as well do both at the same time."

Well, that _sounded _innocent enough, but I'd been avoiding Webster ever since the day I heard him and his partner talking about Sims. More than once, he'd asked me to help him with something outside or in the garage, and every time, I'd found an excuse not to. It was becoming increasingly obvious he was trying to get me alone.

Now, I'm accustomed to guys wanting to "get me alone," if you catch my drift. Usually they want something. More often than not, it's a piece of ass.

But Webster was a freakin' homophobe of the worst kind. There was no way he wanted any "quality time" with lil ol' me.

So, what _did _he want?

Yeah. See where this is headed?

"I'm not your servant, dumb-ass," I sneered. "Get your bum of a partner to help you when he's done makin' dinner!"

Webster actually took a step towards me, a dark scowl on his pudgy face. "Damn it, Solo, just get off your lazy ass and gimme a hand!"

I was leaning back against the headboard, one hand half-under my pillow, where I'd stashed a jackknife I'd found during one of my forays into the shed. If the bastard took one more step, I was seriously considering using it.

But he paused and ran a hand over his face, letting out a gusty sigh. "Look—Alexander's all over our asses now that he lost his other witness, kid. I really need a hand with this, and Davis has got other things to do right now." He gave me a phony attempt at a reassuring smile. "Please?"

It musta just _killed _him to say that.

So I played along.

"All right. Sure," I said with a shrug, sliding off the bed with that jackknife tucked unobtrusively in one hand.

I strutted past him, sticking my hands in my jeans pockets to transfer my only weapon to a new hiding place.

It was fuckin' hard to walk down that hallway with the sonofabitch behind me, since I totally didn't trust my back to him. But I couldn't let him know my level of suspicion. If he and his partner were in this together and I put up a fight, there was little chance of winning.

But if I got Webster alone—maybe I could get the drop on _him_, instead of vice versa. And if he didn't try anything, well there'd be no harm done, right?

_No harm indeed!_

We walked past the kitchen, hearing Davis yakking away on the phone, and made our way out the back door.

It was nearly twilight, with shadows deepening around the buildings and next to the fence, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Webster watching me _way _too intently.

"Did ya bring a flashlight? It's gonna be dark in the shed."

"Not that dark," he shrugged. "Won't take a minute, anyway."

I pulled open the door, loathe to precede him inside.

"Go on," he said, his tone harsher. He even gave a shove to the back of my shoulder to propel me inside.

I made a show of stumbling over the sill, and cursed about how dark it was, using the distraction to fumble with my hands on the workbench until I felt the solid bulk of a brick and grabbed hold of it.

At the same time, Webster closed on me from behind, and slung a loop of some rubbery material over my head to settle around my neck.

_Fucking shit!_ I'd been waiting for him to pull the classic bad guy blunder and either tie me up, or go for his gun. Instead, he was trying to strangle me with a loop of garden hose he'd obviously prepared earlier.

What was it I'd said before—I really, really hate being right? Yeah, wasn't _that_ the God's honest truth?

I flailed about with my legs, trying to reach Webster even as my breath was choked off by the thick, flexible garrote. When that didn't work and my vision began to go gray around the edges, in desperation I took the brick by both ends and brought it up and over my head, striking backwards and praying I hit him.

There was a muffled curse, and the noose around my neck loosened, giving me a chance to twist free, gasp for air, and then cold cock the sonofabitch.

He fell like a ton of bricks, and I staggered back away from him, pulling out the knife and holding it at the ready in case he got back up.

But I needn't have bothered. Seemed like he was down for the count. And that was damned lucky for me.

"Fucking hell!" I blurted, rubbing my neck and sucking in grateful gulps of air. "Bastard!"

I kicked him as hard as I could in the ribs, shaking with anger and adrenaline. I mean, I'd been stabbed in a lung just a coupla weeks ago, and I did not need this kind of _shit_ to deal with. If my swing with the brick had missed, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have succeeded in fighting him off.

_Goddamned Feds!_

My brain finally kicked back into gear, once my trembling subsided, and I fumbled around in the dark looking for rope or something to tie the prick up with.

I finally found a big-ass roll of duct tape, and bound his wrists and ankles—slapping a piece across his mouth for the finishing touch. Then I took the gun from the waistband of his pants and shoved it into my own, grateful for a more substantial weapon than the jackknife.

Finally, I shoved his fat ass into a corner, and headed for the house to round up his partner, before he got suspicious and came looking for us.

When I eased into the house, Davis was off the phone, and noisily tossing plates onto the table.

"Done out there?" he asked, not bothering to look up.

"Yeah," I said flatly. "All done." I leveled the gun at him, waiting until he caught sight of it and froze, his eyes going wide and his face paling.

"Wh-what's going on?"

"That's what I'd like to know," I said with a cold smile. "Your buddy Webster just tried to fuckin' strangle me with a piece of garden hose. You know anything about that, do ya?"

He shook his head, his chubby cheeks wobbling with the motion. "What the fuck you talkin' about? Webster and I are supposed to protect you—."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" I asked icily. "But frankly, I'm not convinced of your sincerity any more. So, we're gonna take a walk, you an' me, out to the shed. And you're gonna help reassure me that I'm safe."

"O-okay," he stammered nervously. "H-how am I gonna do that?"

"First, in order for me to feel confident you won't put a bullet in my back, toss your gun over there in the corner. Slowly."

He did as I said, and I gestured him towards the door. "Now grab a flashlight, why doncha? I'll need to see what I'm doing out there in the shed."

He obeyed, taking the light from the table by the door, and stepping outside. "What did you do to Webster?" he asked, glancing carefully back at me as he walked.

"I hit him with a brick and knocked him out," I answered calmly. "Then I tied him up and came to get you."

"'S he alive?"

"He was breathing when I left."

We found Webster right where I'd left him, though he was beginning to stir.

Davis knelt by his partner, examining the big goose egg the brick had made on his forehead and the bruise my fist had left on his cheek. "Wow. You really nailed him one."

His eyes strayed to the short length of hose and the brick lying a couple of feet away. "Seriously—he tried to strangle you?"

"Yeah."

"I can't imagine why—."

"I can," I snapped back. "He's on Oz's payroll, idiot—just like his buddy Sims and most of the rest of you stinking Feds."

Davis turned towards me, and I hastily stuck the gun in his face. "Don't even think about it, dickhead."

"I wasn't!" he blurted. "Just—don't be saying all FBI agents are crooked. You're wrong. Totally wrong!"

"Yeah, well, I can't afford a mistake right now," I said evenly. "So I'm gonna have to treat you both like the enemy."

I glanced around, wondering how long I could detain the two agents in order to make my escape. I'd need at least half an hour to grab what I needed from the house. And while I had some pocket money I'd won playing cards with them, it wasn't going to last long once I was out on my own.

"What are you gonna do to us?" Davis asked warily.

"Make sure you can't follow me," I told him with a dark glare. He could take that any way he wanted—I didn't much care.

"You think you can make it out there on your own?" he asked incredulously. "Jesus, kid—you're in protective custody, for fuck's sake! You need us!"

I stared him down, jerking my chin towards his groaning, waking partner. "I didn't need Webster there tryin' ta choke me to death."

He started to argue some more, and I waved the gun impatiently, trying to keep him from messing up my train of thought. Then it hit me—the perfect plan!

"Take off your partner's clothes," I told him. "Everything."

"What? Why?"

"'Cause I said so—and I've got the gun."

Whoa—I had a flash of déjà vu—but it was for damned sure I wasn't planning on repeating what had happened with 'Ro when I'd pulled a gun.

Davis started to do as I said, but stopped in frustration. "How am I supposed to get his shirt off? You've got his wrists taped together!"

I tossed him the jackknife. "Cut it off then—the shirt—not the duct tape." I smiled nastily. "The pants, too, including his undies. And don't make any sudden moves. I'm a damn good shot."

He obeyed, darting me nervous sidelong glances all the while, and when he was done, I retrieved my knife and made him strip down to his own birthday suit as well. Then, despite his protests and threats, I had him haul his squirming, wide-eyed partner upright and hug him tightly.

Yep, Webster had gradually come around during the undressing process, and he was making muffled, horrified noises behind his duct tape gag. But that didn't keep me from making Davis wrap his arms around him so they were in a full-body embrace.

Then I taped Davis' wrists behind Webster's back, and vice versa. And I taped their ankles together, too, and their knees. I even bound one strip of tape around their heads, so they were kinda cheek to cheek, and another around their waists, pressing their chubby tummies together. Then I made sure to take a turn around their butts, so they were forced into groin-to-groin contact; damned homophobes deserved it!

I might've gotten a little carried away after that, winding loop after loop of that tape around them until they resembled one big, unhappy mummy.

Oh, I made sure their faces were free so they could breathe. But if they hadda take a piss, things were gonna get real messy for the two of them.

Heh, heh.

Before I left, I made sure there was nothing in that shed they could use to free themselves. I wanted them to have to wait until Alexander sent help—and that wouldn't be until after the next scheduled check-in, whenever _that _was. I hadn't been able to pin down a timetable; Alexander seemed to call at random times, damn him.

But I solved that little problem by taking both the cell phones with me—Davis' _and _Webster's. That way I'd know exactly when their boss called, and how much of a lead I had by then.

I packed up some snack bars and sports drinks, helped myself to a sturdy parka from the hall closet, and then made my way out to the garage, figuring I might as well take the Feds' car for the start of my journey. I'd have to ditch it pretty quickly, or risk them checking the GPS unit and realizing it had left the safe house. But I thought I could at least drive far enough to find a gas station where I could procure a map and figure out exactly where I was.

Then it would be a simple matter to drive to the nearest highway, leave the car parked in a commuter lot, and see if I could hitch a ride from a passing truck. With any luck, I hoped to be in Euphoria before the end of the week!


	54. Finding the Way Home

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This more or less fits with chapter sixty six of Witness, timewise.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty Four: Finding the Way Home

It had been a long couple of days since I left my babysitters behind. I'd made my way to a gas station a few minutes from the safe house, only to discover I was a good two days' drive from Euphoria.

Hell, it took me nearly half an hour just to find it on the map, it was such a tiny speck!

Once I did, I knew the FBI car hadda go. I couldn't drive it twenty or more hours and risk having someone notice its position had changed.

So I did as I'd planned, and dropped it off in a commuter lot. I might've tried riding a bus at least part of the way to my destination, but it was the middle of the night and I needed to put some distance between myself and that GPS unit.

I had no choice but to try hitchhiking, and hope a cop didn't spot me—since that wasn't allowed on a limited-access highway.

I got lucky when a trucker saw the braid and pulled over for me, thinking I was a stranded female. And I give him credit; when he realized his mistake, he was gracious enough to let me climb up into the cab anyway—especially when I waved a couple of twenties and told him I didn't care where he let me off, as long as we'd made some progress in the right direction.

He let me ride with him the better part of the night, leaving me at a truck stop when he had to turn away from the route I wanted to travel. I wished I could've slept while I had the chance in that nice, warm cab—but I was afraid to let my guard down. It was bad enough I'd used the braid to procure my ride, thus risking recognition if the trucker caught a newscast of the Khushrenada trial.

I decided to rest awhile in a booth at the truck stop, sipping a cup of coffee and nibbling on one of the snack bars I'd brought along.

Damn, I was tired.

Turns out recovering from major surgery takes longer than a week or two. And though it had been closer to three, I thought, I was far from a hundred percent.

You don't know how tempting it was to dial up Trowa's number on one of those cell phones and ask him to come get me.

God, it would've been wonderful to just put myself in his capable hands and let him take me where I needed to go. But I couldn't. As far as he knew, I was dead. And even if I convinced him otherwise, it would just put him in as much danger as I was in, if he came after me.

That was the same reason I couldn't call Heero. I mean, aside from not knowing his phone number, which I could probably get from directory assistance, I didn't want to put him at risk by contacting him if he was under FBI surveillance.

Hell—if they knew what he meant to me, crooked agents like Webster would have only to nab Heero and threaten his life, in order to reel me in.

No. Until the verdict was in, I didn't dare contact anyone I cared about.

Y'think I felt all alone that night in the woods with Heero and Wufei, after we'd fled from the log cabin? Well, this was ten times worse. To know there were people who cared about me and would want to rush to my rescue, and yet not dare contact them—? It was Hell, pure and simple.

"Hey, y'okay mister? You look a little pale," commented the waitress, pausing by my booth to see if I needed more coffee.

"Just tired," I said wearily. "I just need to rest a few minutes and get back on my way."

She gave me a sad, sympathetic smile. "Take y'time. It's not like anyone else needs that table. Rest as long as you like."

So I did. I must've spent a couple of hours, just half-dozing and soaking in the warmth of that diner. Then I pulled myself back together, gathered up my backpack, and set out walking again as the sun was rising and the chill night air was gradually warmed to a tolerable temperature.

By midday, I'd hitched another ride and even managed a brief nap, which ended rather abruptly when the trucker leaned over to touch my shoulder and I nearly broke his wrist.

Ah, yeah—he said he understood, but he let me off at the next rest stop, claiming he had to take a detour from the main highway. I couldn't blame him; I know I looked like road kill by then—haggard and pale. He probably thought I was on drugs or something.

I didn't dare keep hitchhiking along the thruway, in case a cop came along and caught me—so I turned aside to one of the secondary roads on the map, resigned to taking the long way to Euphoria.

And I ended up walking again…and walking…and, well, walking. There just wasn't enough traffic on the small road to net me a willing ride. Folks don't pick up hitchhikers much any more.

Eventually I tucked my braid under the parka, figuring that if it wasn't an asset, helping me snag a ride, I should keep it hidden for anonymity's sake. Probably should've done that from the get go, but like I said, folks sometimes assumed I was a chick long enough for me to charm them into picking me up anyway.

When it started to get dark, I knew I had to find a place to rest—so when I stumbled across a culvert that ran under the road, I picked the lock that held the metal grate in place, and ducked inside.

It wasn't raining, which was good. The cement tunnel was fairly dry as a result. And while it wasn't particularly warm, I had the thick parka to huddle into. All in all, I'd spent more miserable nights as a kid.

Of course, back then I hadn't just had major surgery. So the next time I woke after curling up with my backpack for a pillow, it was broad daylight and I could hear traffic rumbling over the road above me.

Shit—I'd wasted God knew how many hours of daylight!

But when I tried to drag myself up to resume my journey, my body protested vehemently. My legs were aching from the miles of walking the previous day, and there was a dull pain in my midsection, under the long, pink scar from the surgery.

I ended up staying in my little shelter for a couple of extra hours, sipping a sports drink and nibbling one of the snack bars while I stretched and flexed my sore muscles. Then I made myself get up and get moving before I lost an entire day of travel.

The road I was on finally led me to a small town where there was a diner. And though I suspected I looked a wreck, I decided to chance a hot meal, and maybe ask if there was a hotel nearby.

The waitress there was a matronly lady, who gave me a look that was a combination of pity and disgust. But she also gave me an extra-large helping of the beef stew they were serving.

It wasn't in a class with Pops' cooking; but it was hot and filling, and after a couple of cups of coffee to wash down some apple pie, I felt better than I had all day.

"Hey, is there a hotel around here?" I asked the portly brunette when she came to drop off the check.

"Couple miles north," she told me, running a critical eye over my rumpled clothes and messy hair. "You might catch a ride with Charlie if you wait a bit."

"Charlie?"

"Local constable. He comes for a late lunch every day, and then heads for the station, which is right next door to the hotel."

Constable—as in _cop_.

"Ah, that's okay," I said carefully. "I don't mind the walking."

She gave a wry snort. "Y'look like you can barely stagger, kid."

I gave her one of my patented cocky grins. "Looks can be deceiving."

She stuck her pen behind an ear and narrowed her eyes. "'S there a reason you don't want to meet up with a cop, sonny?"

"Yeah," I said flatly. "They've never been particularly nice to me."

She laughed at that, apparently deciding I wasn't some kind of fugitive. "Aw, Charlie's not like that. He's always willing to lend a hand to someone down on their luck."

"Thanks anyway," I told her, handing over a bill that would cover the meal and a decent tip. "I gotta get going. I need to be somewhere in a couple of days."

She raised an eyebrow. "Goin' to see a sweetheart, are ya?"

"It shows?"

She smiled kind of wistfully. "When you mentioned you needed to be somewhere, you got that faraway, dreamy look, like you're thinkin' of someone special."

"I am," I told her. "And I can't wait to see 'em again." There was no need to scandalize her by stressing the "him," but I also wasn't gonna lie about someone so important to me.

She didn't seem to notice the difference, and wished me well as I got up and left.

I resumed my trek, turning aside well before I got to the hotel, in case the well-meaning woman sent her friend Charlie to track me down and help me out. It meant another night sleeping outside, but like I said, I was more or less used to roughing it.

Around twilight, as I was once again looking for a shelter in which to spend the night, Davis' cell phone rang loudly.

Frankly, it about scared me out of my wits, as I'd forgotten it was tucked in my jacket pocket.

But once I calmed my racing heart, I took it out and flipped it open. "Maxwell's Bar and Grill!" I said flippantly.

"Dav—Maxwell?" came Alexander's breathless voice. "What the fuck's going on?"

"You tell me. That asshole Webster tried to off me a couple days ago."

"Tried—? What?" Alexander sputtered for a moment. "Where is he now?" he asked sharply. "Are you okay? Where's Davis?"

So I, ah, told him. I told him in great and gory detail how his trusted agent had attempted to strangle me with a garden hose. And then I told him how I got lucky and knocked the bastard out.

I even explained that I'd left his two goons tied up in the shed, though I didn't go into details about the duct tape. I wanted to surprise him with that when he got there. I _did _give him a hint, though, when I told him he should hurry before the pair got hard for each other and had an inter-office romance...heh, heh.

"Where are you now?" he finally asked, when I took a break from my rant and let him get a word in edgewise.

"Far, far away from you, and your crappy organization," I said flatly.

"You left?"

"Well what was I supposed to do—sit there and spoon feed your two thugs until you felt like callin'?"

"You should have called _me_. I'm sure the number's on Davis' cell."

"I was pissed, Al. I didn't really want to talk to you. I still don't. You almost got me fuckin' killed!"

"I didn't know about Webster. Not until today. I only just got the list of crooked agents, and when I saw his name on it, I called."

"Well thanks—but you're a little late," I sneered. "I'd have been dead days ago, if I hadn't heard the asshole talking to his partner about knowing Sims awhile back." I shook my head, though he couldn't see me. "Here's the deal, Al. Consider me gone."

"Maxwell, you can't—."

"It's _Smythe_," I snarled. "John Smythe. And don't even bother tryin' to trace this cell phone. It's going into the next dumpster I pass."

I snapped the phone shut and, as promised, located a dumpster behind a strip mall and tossed both cell phones into it.

I was brushing off my hands and rounding the building to look for someplace I might tuck in for the night, when I nearly bumped into a burly man leaving a convenience store with a brown bag in his hands.

"Oh, sorry."

"No problem." He started to head for his truck—a big rig pulled up at the pump out front—and then looked back at me and let his gaze sweep the empty parking lot. "What're you doing out here? You live in the area?"

I shook my head, realizing it must look kind of funny that I was in the middle of nowhere on foot. "Just sightseeing," I shrugged, hefting the backpack. "Wanted to 'see the world,' y'know? Kinda got off the beaten path."

He gave me a long, assessing look. "You seem familiar."

"I got that kinda face." I pulled the collar of my jacket tighter, glad my braid was safely concealed. "Have a nice night."

I was almost at the end of the row of buildings when I heard his voice again. "Need a ride?"

Fuck! I didn't know what to do. He seemed normal enough—like a nice guy trying to do a kid a favor. But if he recognized me—.

I turned and looked him over, wanting to trust my instincts, but not so sure of them after what Hilde had done.

He had steady grey eyes and reddish-brown hair—a ruddy complexion, and laugh lines around his mouth, though they were partially shrouded by a short beard.

He smiled at me then, and it was a warm, genuine smile. "C'mon, kid. You look like you need a hand. I don't bite."

I still had Webster's gun tucked inside that backpack—so I knew I could probably defend myself if my judgment of the man proved faulty.

"Which way are you headed?" I asked cautiously.

The gray eyes narrowed fractionally. "East—back to the interstate."

It was the right direction for me, and my weary legs were screaming for relief from the walking, but I still hesitated, afraid my luck couldn't possibly be this good. Not after all I'd gone through.

"I'll take you as far as you want, drop you wherever you tell me to—and forget I ever saw you. Y'got my word."

I took a hesitant step towards him. "What's your name?"

"Max."

Well, if _that _wasn't a sign, I didn't know what was. And I decided to take a chance on the down-to-earth trucker.

"I'm Solo. An' I'll take a ride as far east as you're goin'."

"You got it."

Max proved to be as good as his word, letting me ride along in his big rig well into the night. He didn't talk much, which was fine by me, because it meant I didn't have to answer questions. Instead we listened to the radio, and eventually I started to relax, watching the miles roll by with a growing sense of anticipation.

We took a late-night break at a crowded truck stop, and although Max wouldn't let me pay for gas, he did allow me to treat him to a meal. We talked a bit then, and while we kept the conversation vague and casual, I was pretty sure he knew who I was.

If he was surprised to see me alive after all the news broadcasts highlighting my spectacular "death" at the courthouse, he never let it show.

Hell, maybe he thought I was a ghost and he was having some sort of paranormal encounter. It didn't much matter to me, as long as it got me closer to Euphoria.

But when I was up at the cash register paying the bill, while Max had headed out to refuel, I noticed a sleek, black car pulling into the parking lot, slowly cruising the line of trucks as if searching for something.

_Fuck!_

My best guess was that Alexander had done a wickedly fast trace on the position of those cell phones. And since that strip mall was along a major trucking route, his agents might have guessed I hitched a ride. Or maybe the store owner had seen me head off with Max, which could mean the Feds even had a vehicle description or license number to track.

_Double fuck!_

Why'd he have to send _smart _agents after me? Why couldn't he have sent a couple of dummies like Webster and Davis?

I gathered up my change, watching the car to see if anyone got out, and when it pulled into a parking place, and a guy in a goddamned three-piece suit emerged, I decided I'd seen enough. I couldn't stick around and take a chance on them either spotting me, or talking to Max. Hell, even the waitress might recall my face, if they had a picture.

I ducked out the side entrance and circled around to the back of the building, where the trucks were headed the opposite way. There was an unlocked panel truck, whose driver was around the front checking the oil—so I rolled up the back door just enough to squeeze inside and then pulled it back down.

When the engine started up a moment later and the vehicle lurched into motion, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Yeah, I was in a smelly, bouncy, unheated cargo area. But I had a full stomach, and I was headed away from the Feds.

I was also headed away from Euphoria, which pretty much sucked. And while I had my wallet, my backpack was in Max's cab with the only change of clothes I owned, and the last of my portable food.

_Damned FBI!_

They had fuckin' lousy timing, that's for sure. I'd been hoping to have Max drop me off at the exit nearest Euphoria. Now I'd have to wait for this truck to stop, duck out before the driver caught me and kicked my ass, and find an alternate route to my destination. I didn't dare use the main highway any more.

It was back to secondary roads for me, when the panel truck pulled into a rest stop. I rolled out and bolted before the driver had even finished parking, and once I vaulted the chain link fence along the limited access highway, I was able to hike my way to a winding country road.

I wasn't sure how much backtracking I'd just done, but I stubbornly turned east again, and resumed walking.


	55. Back to Euphoria

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This more or less fits with chapter sixty six of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty Five: Back to Euphoria

The final miles to Euphoria were some of the longest of my life. It felt like I walked forever along those quiet country roads, watching the sun rise, and then make its trek across the sky—just like me.

And yeah, a couple of good Samaritans gave me rides along the way, helping me get a few more miles under my belt, while enjoying a much-welcomed break.

But in the end, it came down to a shitload of walking.

I almost couldn't believe it when I saw a sign for Euphoria, and turned onto the one road leading in or out of the tiny town.

It was such a relief I got choked up for a minute or two, and had to sit down and take a break. I'd fuckin' made it!

Or at least, I would when I covered one-point-five more miles, according to the sign.

God, when I got there, all I wanted to do was lie down and sleep for a week! Thinking of that possibility gave me the energy to get back up and tackle the final leg of my journey.

Of course, when I actually ended up strolling down the main street of the sea side town, recalling vividly the day we'd clothes shopped and missing Heero more than ever, I realized I had almost no money left.

That would make finding a place to stay somewhat problematic. Not that a street kid like me couldn't manage. But I didn't want Heero to find me ragged, homeless, and half-starved when he finally got here.

My feet steered me to The Gull's Wing almost without conscious thought, and I self-consciously smoothed my hair before I walked in.

Sure, I'd spruced up in the bathroom of that diner on the main road—running a comb through my rather dingy hair and rebraiding it so it wasn't quite so unkempt. But I still felt kind of grubby and gritty after my prolonged travels.

"Max!"

Mary's bright voice woke me from my musings, and I found myself the recipient of a hearty hug.

"Ow!" I blurted, realizing my midsection was still not up to being forcefully compressed. "Easy," I cautioned, pushing her to arm's length. "Y'may not wanna get so close—I've been on the road awhile, and I'd bet money I stink."

She wrinkled her nose, but not in disgust. "Who gives a shit? Pops! Come out here Pops!"

The old man stepped out of the kitchen and his jaw fell open. "Max?"

I was a bit puzzled by their over-the-top welcome. They were acting like I was a long-lost cousin.

"Or should I call you Duo?" he added, walking over and grabbing my hand, giving it one hard shake and then adding his own hug to Mary's.

I fumbled for words, my mouth probably gaping like a fish. "H-how'd you know—?"

"Like anyone couldn't recognize that hair and those eyes," Mary chided. "We knew who you were last time, too."

I shot a worried gaze around the room, only to realize we were alone, save for a single diner way across the room by one of the windows, totally engrossed in reading a book while eating lunch.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do!" Pops declared, tugging me towards the kitchen. "C'mon in back and sit down. You look beat to Hell."

"I am," I admitted. "But I guess it's better than bein' dead."

"And why _aren't _you?" Mary asked, pouring a cup of coffee and pressing it into my hands.

I figured I had enough money for the coffee at least, but when she started dishing up some of whatever Pops had bubbling in the big pot on the stove, I held up a hand. "Uh, Mary. I'm kinda broke—."

She rolled her eyes and took another ladle full. "As if—!" she scoffed. "You think we'd let you pay for a meal?"

"You did last time—."

"Last time we were still pretending we didn't know you," she shrugged, pulling a stool over by the counter and gesturing me to sit. "You seemed to want it that way, and with your boyfriend glaring at anyone who even looked at you, it seemed smarter to just play dumb."

I wanted to groan aloud at how recognizable I seemed to be—wondering if Max the Truck Driver was at his next stop telling everyone he'd given Duo Maxwell a ride—or if he was in federal custody being grilled about someone he claimed to not know. _Fuck!_

Pops dragged a stool of his own over next to me, and set a big chunk of homemade bread and butter down next to my bowl. "Eat up. You've got a lot of talking to do!"

The two of them were relentless, and so I just went with the flow. Between mouthfuls of absolutely incredible soup, and Mary coming and going to take care of the occasional customer, I poured out the whole damned story—how I'd been Zechs' lover, seen his murder, and ended up hiding out with the gorgeous cop I fell in love with.

Yeah, I even told them about that—since Mary had picked up on it the first time we visited.

Pops didn't bat an eye; but then, since they told me they'd been avidly watching the Khushrenada case on the news, he already knew who I was and my part in it. I just filled in the gaps from the time I "died" until the present.

And when I finished, Mary had tears in her big, brown eyes, and looked like she was about to hug me again. "Are you sayin' Heero doesn't know you're alive? At all?"

I shook my head, sobering. "I made the FBI agent who hauled me away promise to have my lawyer give Heero the ashes. But I can't be sure he did it—or that 'Ro will think of bringing them here."

"Oh, he will!" Mary asserted. "You think a guy romantic enough to propose to you on the cliff trail wouldn't realize this is the place to bring the ashes?"

I could feel myself blushing, as I realized I'd even thrown _that _little detail into my story. "You've got a point. He's a pretty sharp guy."

"Handsome, too," she said quickly.

Pops smacked her on the back of the head. "He's taken, girl. Give it up."

Much as I loved the homey feeling in that kitchen, I could feel myself starting to fade, and I knew I needed to find a place to hole up for the night.

"Hey, this was terrific," I told my benefactors. "But I'm pretty worn out from traveling, and I desperately need a shower. I should go find a place to stay tonight."

Mary gave me a funny look, and leaned in to whisper in Pops' ear. He drew back and exchanged a long look with her, and then fixed a studious one on me.

"Mary says you're a little low on cash. Is that so?"

I blushed, wishing she'd just forgotten my slip of the tongue earlier. "Yeah, it is," I sighed. "I've pretty much used up what I fleeced the Feds out of. But I don't wanna borrow from you or nothin'. I was a street kid—I can manage."

Yeah, I'd done without food, shelter, or a hot shower a lotta times before, and it was for damn sure I could do it again. I started to stand, my exhaustion slowing me down considerably, but Pops settled a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down onto the stool.

"I'm not talking about a loan," he said firmly. "I've got a proposition for you."

I gave him a raised-eyebrow look and the old man actually blushed, while Mary laughed aloud.

"Didn't mean _that _kind!" Pops sputtered, glaring at me. "What I was talkin' about was maybe we could help each other out."

I grinned and shook my head. "You're still bein' a bit vague, old man."

"He means," Mary interrupted, looking both amused at our obtuse conversation, and excited about something. "We've got a place you could stay—and in return, Pops could use some help in the kitchen." She gave a helpless little shrug. "_Real _help—not my fumbling attempts at it."

"You want me to—what? Do cleanup and stuff?"

"To hell with cleanup!" the old man blurted. "Mary can swing a mop with the best of 'em. I need someone to help with the cooking. And judging from our last conversation, you could do the job."

"You want me to be a—cook?"

I found myself strangely excited at the idea. I mean, I'd been offered a lotta jobs in my life—most of them illegal. But I'd never had anyone suggest I could make a living doing something I enjoyed like cooking. It was almost like being offered money to have fun.

"From the sound of it, you already _are _a cook," Pops pointed out. "I just want you to learn your way around my kitchen and maybe take over so I can enjoy my golden years with some of my friends."

"Ah," I said wisely. "Surf fishing and hanging out on the pier all day?"

He smirked a bit, glancing scoldingly at his granddaughter. "She told ya 'bout that, huh?"

"Yeah, our last visit."

"So, what do you say?" Mary piped up, leaning her elbows on the counter and resting her chin on her hands, looking hopefully at me. "Will you come work for Pops, and save me from a lifetime of lawsuits over the food poisoning my cooking would give the customers?"

I laughed at her wry tone, unable to resist both her big, brown eyes, and the twinkling green ones of her old granddad. "Sure," I said warmly.

"Great!" She leapt up and sure enough, hugged me again. "I'll go get the key for the apartment and show you around!"

She dashed off into the office beside the kitchen, and Pops gave a quiet chuckle. "She's a handful," he told me in a sort of conspiratorial tone. "Been with me ever since her folks died in a car wreck when she was six. But I wouldn't trade her for all the master chefs in the world."

"I wouldn't either if I were you," I told him sincerely. I already knew I liked Mary and Pops a whole lot, and it was obvious they cared very deeply about each other. But I think it was the way they so quickly cared about _me_—a virtual stranger—that made them instantly special in my eyes.

Mary came skipping back in, stripping off her apron and dangling a key on a chain. "Pops—there's only Elmo at the back table finishing off his dessert, so you should be able to handle the tables until I get back. I'm gonna show Duo his place and make sure he's got everything he'll need, okay?"

And just like that the old man entrusted his beloved granddaughter to my care, waving us away and returning to his cooking as if he hadn't a worry in the world.

_God_, these two wouldn't have lasted a day in the city. They were too trusting and too open. They'd have been chewed up and spit out by the cruel streets within hours.

I just wanted to hug 'em both—they were so precious!

Mary took me out of the restaurant and led me across the deck and up a flight of stairs to an apartment over a larger building. "The downstairs is where Pops and I live," she told me, deftly unlocking the door and swinging it open. "This place is a rental—but it's been awhile since we had a tenant. The last one skipped out on the final month's rent and took Pops' pickup truck for good measure." She glanced aside at me with nothing but good will. "I know you're not that kinda guy. You an' Pops hit it off so well."

"I promise you," I told her solemnly. "I would never do anything to hurt that old man."

She smiled warmly.

"Or you," I added firmly.

Yeah, that got her blushing, and she quickly walked across the little kitchenette to open a window. "It may be a bit stale in here, but I air it out a couple of times a month when no one's living in it. So there shouldn't be any mold or mildew." She gestured to the next room. "That's a combination living room and bedroom; the couch folds out into a bed. Bathroom's off to the right there."

She turned to face me, frowning a little bit. "I know it's not much—."

"Jesus!" I blurted. "It's a godsend," I assured her. "I mean, fuck—I've got no money and nowhere to go. To the rest of the world, I'm as good as dead. You an' Pops offering me a place to stay is nothing less than a miracle." I gestured around the tiny apartment. "This is more than enough—it's a freakin' palace compared to the streets I grew up on."

She lit up again, her smile back in full force. "You go ahead and get comfortable, and I'll run downstairs and snag you some shampoo and stuff. You _did _say you desperately needed a shower, didn't you?"

"God, yes," I groaned, thinking how heavenly it would feel.

"Well, we've got plenty of hot water, and I'll bring you up the necessities until Pops pays you and you can get to the store for your own stuff—."

"_Pays_ me?" I echoed in shock. "Mary, this apartment—."

"—comes with the job," she finished for me. "And so do meals. But that's not an even trade. You've gotta have enough cash for personal necessities, too."

Jesus, did their generosity know no bounds?

She was heading for the door by then, but I called her back just before she stepped out.

"Hey, Mary?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

It seemed pretty inadequate—one simple word to repay them for practically saving my life. But you'd have thought I gave that girl the crown jewels, the way she smiled.

And as for me? Well, I kinda felt like I'd just won the lottery.

I mean, here I was a street kid who'd grown up in the school of hard knocks, done some pretty bad-ass things in his day, and shacked up with a drug lord. How could I deserve friends like these?

But then again, I'd turned State's evidence against an even bigger drug lord, saved Wufei's life, taken orphans to the circus, and in general done a lotta things to try to redeem myself a bit. Maybe this was Fate's way of repaying my efforts—I stumbled into the job of my dreams, some super friends, and a place to call home, all at once.

Only one thing was missing—the one thing I couldn't live without—Heero. Without him, my life would be empty.


	56. Living in Limbo

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This more or less fits with chapter sixty six and sixty seven of Witness, timewise.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty Six: Living in Limbo

I settled in to my new job pretty fast. Pops was a terrific boss, easygoing and good natured; and Mary kept things lively around the place.

But I was dying a little bit on the inside every damn day.

The verdict hadn't come down yet, and until it did, I couldn't make a move in any direction. I couldn't try contacting Trowa, in case the Feds had tapped his line to try to find me. And I sure as hell couldn't try to reach Heero.

Fuck—I wasn't even sure Heero would want anything to do with me when this was all over.

I mean, face it. The guy thought I was dead. He'd been to my funeral, for fuck's sake. For all I knew, he might be so pissed off after finding out about Alexander's deception that he'd want nothing to do with me.

Yeah, I know that was just my insecurities talkin', but they could be pretty fuckin' loud sometimes.

And at that point, they were pretty much screaming in my ear.

_He got over you by now. He's a cop, through and through—probably buried himself in his work to push your memory away. You're dead to him, and it'd probably be for the best if you stayed that way._

They had a point. If Heero _had_ gotten over my death, would it really be fair to show up alive—to put him through such an emotional wringer? I mean, if Zechs suddenly appeared in my life, while I knew I'd be glad to see him, I also knew it'd never be the same.

What if Heero felt that way? What if he'd moved on? What if he'd _met _someone?

Okay—I really needed to put a gag on those errant thoughts.

If Heero was through with me, well, he could tell me to my face when I found a way to reunite us. At the very least, he deserved to know the truth. And I guessed I did, too.

Even if it hurt.

"Jesus, Duo, you've gotta stop brooding," Mary said, laying a hand on my shoulder.

I pulled myself away from the window, where I'd been staring out at the gulls.

"It'll be okay," she assured me, looking a bit worried. "Once the verdict is in—."

Yeah, wasn't that the truth? _Once the verdict was in. _It all hinged on that goddamned verdict, didn't it?

"Pops wanted some fresh produce from the farmer's market in Lewiston. Y'wanna take a ride there with me?"

"Hm?"

Mary heaved a sigh. "I've got to drive up the highway to the farmer's market. Wanna come?"

"Sure," I sighed. "Why not?"

Y'know—when you ask a rhetorical question, it's not supposed to get answered. But mine did.

It got answered loudly and resoundingly when Mary and I nearly ran smack into a couple of FBI agents at a freakin' gas station along the highway west of Euphoria.

We'd stopped to fill up the tank, and while I pumped gas, Mary ran inside to pick up a couple of coffees.

It was just as the nozzle clicked off that I noticed a car pulling up on the other side of the pumps—a sleek, black car with government plates.

I started so badly I nearly dropped the damned nozzle, and hastily turned my back to the new arrivals.

Just as quickly, I remembered my braid and how fucking recognizable it was, and I reached to yank it under my coat, only to realize I had never pulled it out to begin with. I'd simply thrown on my parka and slumped into the passenger seat with a distinct lack of motivation.

Yeah, I'd still been brooding at that point, and it occurred to me rather suddenly that I'd probably been lousy company for Mary. She deserved better than that. I really needed to pull myself together and try to keep my spirits up around her and Pops. After all they'd done for me, I owed them that much.

But meanwhile, I had more important things on my mind, like the sound of car doors opening and voices as the men in the car got out.

"—waste of time. He could be anywhere by now."

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna be the one to tell the boss that, are you?"

There was a wry snort. "Not likely. I'd rather keep looking and let him think we have a chance in Hell."

I heard a heavy sigh. "What a fuckin' dump—the bathroom's probably filthy."

"That's why we get hazardous duty pay," came a snide reply.

Footsteps faded away, and I dared a glance over my shoulder. Both occupants of the car had headed inside, leaving the vehicle empty, and I gave it a long look, trying to see if it was the same one that had nearly caught up with Max and me.

But y'know, all those government vehicles look alike to me. The make and model were the same, but that didn't mean much. Alexander could have half a dozen teams of agents out scouring the countryside for me, and he probably did.

At least it sounded like this pair was getting discouraged, and that was fine with me. Maybe they'd give up and let me relax a bit and stop jumping at shadows.

"Duo?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, whirling to face Mary, who'd come out of the building with a little cardboard tray containing two coffees.

"Get in the car!" I said sharply, putting away the nozzle and quickly screwing in the gas cap.

"What? Why?"

"Just do it!" I snapped, looking at the building again to see if the men were in sight. They weren't.

Meanwhile, Mary obeyed my order, and while she was buckling her seatbelt, I let my gaze scan the rundown station to see if there were security cameras anywhere.

There weren't, and in a moment of madness—and I do mean I was _mad_, as opposed to _insane_—I decided it was time for some payback against the damned Feds.

Slipping the jackknife from my pocket, I stepped over the center island and crouched beside the black car, very deliberately slicing the front tire, right along the rim.

Then I did the same to the rear, ensuring that we couldn't be followed, even if they figured out who'd done the deed.

"Duo!" Mary hissed, rolling down the window and looking at me like I was crazy. "What are you doing?"

I ignored her, leaning in and reaching across her to snatch a napkin and a pen out of the center console. "Leaving a love note," I muttered under my breath.

Then I penned a swift message: _Kiss my ass goodbye, Al!_ And I tucked it under the Feds' windshield wiper.

"Let's get outta here before they come out and get a license number!" I urged, ducking around Mary's car and sliding in the passenger side.

She pulled out slowly and carefully, drawing no attention as we left the gas station behind.

When I looked over my shoulder, the two men had not yet come out, and another car was pulling in and driving up to the pump we'd left. There were a couple more pulling in from the opposite direction, too.

_Home free! _

I let out a jubilant whoop and punched a fist into the air in triumph. "Yesss!"

Mary spared me a quizzical look. "What did you just do?"

"I told the Feds to kiss off," I said with a grin.

Her eyes got very round. "Those were FBI agents?"

"Yep."

She pursed her lips, and then let out a rueful chuckle. "Well shit."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Did they say anything when you passed them on your way out?"

"Not to me—they were bickering back and forth about where they'd find a decent place to eat and a motel with cable."

I couldn't help laughing. "Your tax dollars at work," I teased.

Mary laughed, too, and then gave me a warm look. "It's nice to see you happy," she noted.

"For a change?" I guessed. "Look—I'm sorry I've been so down—."

But she shook her head. "Stop apologizing right now, Duo Maxwell. You've been through Hell—chased halfway across the state, shot at, made to testify in a high profile trial, and then attacked and nearly killed. On top of that, you got shuffled off into hiding, had to escape another assassination attempt, and then ended up walking most of the way to Euphoria. Don't you think it's understandable that you're tired and frazzled and a little prone to obsessing about how you'll get back together with the man you love?"

"Well, when you put it that way—," I said with a grin.

She smiled widely, stepping on the accelerator and speeding us on our way to the farmer's market.

The rest of the trip passed without mishap, and we had a great time in the "big" city. (By "big" I mean it was still only a fraction the size of the one I'd grown up in.) But I made damn sure I kept my braid safely out of sight at all times.

We took an alternate route back to Euphoria, figuring there was no point in tempting fate if the Feds were still haunting the main thoroughfares. And when we got back, it was so late I headed straight to bed, and was out almost before my head hit the pillow.

* * *

The next morning I woke feeling better rested than I had in a long time, and I was able to manage a smile for Pops when I strolled into the kitchen at The Gull's Wing.

He gave me a narrow look as I tucked my braid into the back of my tee shirt and donned my apron. "Mary tells me the Feds haven't given up on you just yet."

_Oh_. _Um_—_oops._

I turned to him immediately. "Look, Pops, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done something so stupid with Mary there—but I was so pissed at seeing them in the area—."

He shook his head, smirking slightly. "Naw, I'm not gonna chew you out for pulling a fast one on the Feds—at least not for Mary's sake. She wasn't in any danger. But if they'd spotted _you_—."

"If they'd spotted me, I'd probably be back in protective custody right about now, in the hands of an organization loaded with corrupt agents."

He nodded wisely. "And it'd be pretty damn hard for that man of yours to find you, wouldn't it?"

I hung my head. "Yes sir."

He gave a quiet chuckle. "Don't fret it, boy. You did what I woulda done when I was your age. But I think maybe you should stick close to home from now on—while the heat dies down, eh?"

I looked up from under my bangs, giving him a wan smile, and thinking how nice the word "home" sounded. Or at least, it _would _be home if Heero came there—and if he still cared and wanted to be with me.

"You're a wise old man, Pops," I told him. "I promise to stay out of sight, at least until the verdict comes down, and I know whether the Feds might need me any more."

"Good," he said curtly. "Now, how 'bout you help me with this tarragon chicken recipe you wanted to make?"

Well, _those_ were the magic words. I spent a wonderful morning in that warm kitchen, teaching Pops how I made the favorite meal of a certain Chinese detective I knew and loved.

We were so engrossed in it, adding seasoning and tasting our work in between serving up the regular midday meals, that when Mary came tearing into the kitchen late in the afternoon, she had to bang on a pot lid to get our attention.

"Didn't you hear me?" she yelped. "You forgot to turn the t.v. on! The verdict came in! And there was a shooting in the courthouse right after!"

I turned to her in disbelief, tempted to check my ears to see if I'd heard her right. The _verdict_?

_Wait a sec—._ "A shooting?" I demanded. _Oh God, let Heero be okay!_

She nodded frantically. "Come on! I've got the t.v. on over the bar."

She didn't have to say it twice; Pops and I nearly ran her over in our hurry to get to the counter, and the small television that hung above one end of it. Several patrons were gathered there, listening avidly to the reporter.

"—in a shocking development, Relena Darlian, daughter of Police Chief Darlian, pulled out a gun and fired at Mister Khushrenada. He was pronounced dead at the scene by paramedics."

I staggered back a step, putting a hand to my chest as I sucked in a disbelieving breath.

Treize Khushrenada was _dead_?

I just couldn't quite wrap my brain around the concept. The man had seemed fuckin' indestructible—larger than life. _Invincible_. "He's dead?" I gasped.

Mary turned to look at me, and whatever she saw made her suddenly pull a chair up behind me. I sank into it, my legs refusing to support me all at once. And when Pops pressed a shot of whiskey into my hand, I drank it automatically.

Treize Khushrenada was dead.

"—took Miss Darlian into custody. Sources in the police department said their investigation has already turned up a motive in the case, though they cannot discuss it at this time."

"They found him guilty," Mary said, sitting on an arm of my chair, and leaning an elbow on my shoulder.

"Huh?"

"Khushrenada. The jury found him guilty, just before the crazy girl showed up and shot him."

I looked up at Mary and then back at the television, not really hearing the reporter over the pounding of my heart and the blood rushing to my head. God, it'd be so fuckin' embarrassing if I fainted over this!

"Have another drink," Pops suggested, refilling my glass.

I downed it in a gulp, thinking I really needed a cigarette to go with such nice, smooth whiskey. But it'd been weeks since I smoked. The nurse at the convalescent home wouldn't let me, while my lung was healing, and Webster and Davis had refused to buy the kind I liked, so I went without there, as well.

This was the first time I'd really missed my nasty habit.

But now that the initial shock was wearing off, I tuned back in to the information being broadcast, listening to hear if there were any other casualties in that courtroom. I knew for sure that Quatre would have been there, and probably Trowa, too. Heero and Wufei most certainly would have attended, eager to see justice meted out.

And Hell, they got it in spades, didn't they?

While convicting Khushrenada for Zechs' murder was definitely fair and just, him being shot by my dead lover's half-sister was both ironic and deserved. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

"What're you grinning about?" Pops asked, not liking the irrepressible smirk I was wearing.

But I couldn't help it. It was just too perfect! The little blonde bitch who'd nearly destroyed me an' Zechs—who'd almost gotten 'Ro and me killed—and who'd done her damnedest to fuck with my life in every which way—was the one who pulled the trigger on Treize Khushrenada.

I started to chuckle, and hastily muffled it under a hand, afraid I'd become a bit hysterical if I let it get away.

To save myself a world of embarrassment, I got up and retreated into the kitchen, only letting my laughter loose once I was out the back door on the little deck that overhung the water.

And then I just folded up my apron and buried my face in it, laughing helplessly.

I wasn't sure why I couldn't seem to stop. I mean, first I was laughing at the irony, and then I just started to feel like it had all been a waste of time—all that work to convict the bastard, only to have him duck out on a life sentence the easy way.

Well, it _was _easy, all things considered. I mean, he was more or less dead before he hit the ground. That hadda beat spending years in a hard core prison, didn't it? Especially for a man like him—used to having his way in everything.

Then suddenly I was sobbing into that stupid apron, wishing Heero was there to wrap me in his arms and tell me it was over, and that I'd never have to be afraid again. But I _was _afraid. I was terrified that after all we'd been through, we'd somehow be cheated out of that "forever" we'd promised each other.

Either Heero would be over me, or something would keep us apart—the Feds could find me and drag me off again for their case against Oz, or Heero could end up going off on another case without having time to bring the ashes to Euphoria.

There were just a million things that could go wrong. And all of them weighed upon my overwrought brain at the same time, nearly crushing me with their intensity.

"Duo! Are you okay?"

Dammit, Mary was there again, and I wanted to tell her to go the fuck away and just let me deal with this on my own. There was nothing she could do to help, and knowing she and Pops cared just made me feel the absence of my _real _friends all the more.

On the heels of that thought came a crashing wave of guilt, and I pushed myself upright, wiping my face with the soggy apron. "I'm fine," I lied in a ragged whisper.

"Right," came the skeptical response.

"I will be," I amended, a little more confident of that answer.

She pressed something into my hands and I looked down at her cell phone, blinking stupidly.

"Call him," she urged.

"I can't!" I raised tortured eyes to her face. "I told you an' Pops, the Feds probably have all my friends' phones tapped. If I call _anyone_, they're liable to show up here to round me up."

"Make it a short call," she suggested. "I heard it takes them awhile to triangulate on a cell phone. And right now, with all that's going on at that courthouse, I'd bet they've forgotten all about you."

I looked at the phone again. "But they think I'm dead," I reminded her.

"Prove you're not."

I shook my head. "How?"

"I dunno, Duo. You're the street kid," she chided. "Be creative."

She went back inside, closing the door and leaving me there with the soothing sea breeze and the sound of the gulls to steady my nerves.

Too bad they couldn't steady my hands. I was shaking like a leaf as I punched in Trowa's cell phone number.


	57. Back from the Dead

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)

A/N: This more or less fits with chapter sixty seven and sixty eight of Witness. And I have to admit, the scene with Duo trying to convince Trowa he's still alive, is one of my favorites of the whole story. I had so much fun with it!

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty Seven: Back from the Dead

As I finished dialing Trowa's number, I glanced at my watch to keep track of the time. I wasn't going to chance letting Alexander get a lead on me. I'd risk five minutes—tops.

When I heard the first ring, I started wishing I could've driven to Tro's apartment for an in-person meeting. He was gonna freak when he heard my voice—and I was pretty sure he wouldn't believe it was me.

"Barton."

"Tro'," I gasped out, my throat going dry on me. "Don't hang up. _Please_."

There was a pause, and then a very cautious, "Who is this?"

I knew if I said "Duo," he'd totally think it was someone's idea of a sick joke. "It's me…Shini."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and it sounded like he nearly dropped the phone. "You—it can't be—," he said hoarsely. "Look, I don't know who you are, or how you know that nickname, but I've had all I can take—."

"Tro', _please_—just let me talk!" I begged, hoping the words would come to me. "Alexander lied; he hauled me off into hiding—."

"I saw the body—."

"He faked _everything_," I insisted. "From the moment they got me into surgery, he took over an' ran the show. He made the surgeons sign off on a death certificate, had me transported to some private facility, an' didn't even tell anyone there who I was. Instead he brought in a private nurse from God knows where. Trowa—ya gotta believe me, love. I'm alive."

"I—want to—," came a hesitant voice, and then an almost hysterical sob. _God, he sounded like I had just minutes earlier. _"Fuck, I must be dreaming. Or goin' crazy." There was a choked whimper and it sounded like maybe he slid down onto the floor.

"Tro'? You there?" I asked gently. "You're not dreaming and you aren't delusional. You were _lied _to."

He gave a dark chuckle. "So who's to say this isn't another lie? How do I know you're who you claim to be?"

"Ask me anything," I urged, grateful he'd kept listening to me this long. "Anything that only you an' I know."

"Sure, why not?" he said, sounding faintly bemused. "Indulge my fantasy, why don't I? Since you're just a figment of my imagination, what've I got to lose?"

"I'm as real as you are, Trowa Barton," I scolded. "I know you have a scar on your left butt cheek from where a zebra bit you, and that you became a clown to get over a phobia of them. I know you like classical music as much as hard rock, and that you play the flute when nobody's looking." There was another choking sound, and a gasp. "I know that having someone stick their tongue in your bellybutton drives you wild, and that you hate rimming—but you're freakin' nuts for hummers. And the first time we had sex, you fuckin' made me _cry _because you were so goddamned tender about it. Jesus, Trowa, it's me—Duo—Shini—an' I'm alive an' stuck here all by myself and I need your help, love! I _need _you."

"God—Duo—," he breathed, sobbing unabashedly over the phone. I wondered if it was waterproof, or if I'd have to call back to another number if he fried the circuits. "Fuck—where _are _you? _How _are you? How the hell did that bastard make the surgeons and everyone lie? We had a fuckin' funeral—!"

And then he broke down sobbing so hard he wasn't coherent, and I heard the sound of footsteps and a horrified cry of "Trowa?"

The phone crackled as it apparently changed hands, and a stern voice came on the line.

"Who _is _this? What's going on?"

"Kitty-Quat? That you?" I asked, trying for a light tone.

"What? Who—?"

In the background Trowa started talking, his voice ragged and halting—and I waited for him to explain it all to Quatre.

"—can't be!"

"—knows things only he'd know—."

"—haven't slept in days—sure you heard right—?"

"—know what I heard!"

Then they got too quiet for me to hear, and finally Quatre came back on the phone, as I was checking my watch and trying to decide if I'd run out of time.

"Is it really you, Duo?"

"Yeah," I said a bit breathlessly. "It's me."

"Do you mind if I'd like some sort of proof?"

I sighed theatrically. "Trowa's got this little mole just under his left n—."

"Okay!" he yelped preemptively. "I believe you. Just—this is terribly—confusing. How did Alexander manage it?"

"By lying the way Feds do it best," I said dryly. "Speaking of which, he's probably got Tro's phone tapped, and is trying to trace this call. I should call again later—."

"I doubt Alexander's got time to be monitoring this number," came an amused reply. "When he heard about the shooting, he and several of his bosses came running, trying to do damage control and get warrants on other Oz executives before they could go to ground."

"I was hopin' that might keep him busy—which is partly how I got up the nerve to call." I hesitated to ask the next question, fearing the answer. "How's 'Ro?"

"Geeze, Duo—he was a wreck!" came the blunt reply. "He thought you were dead—he was devastated. When I gave him the ashes—."

"So Alexander kept our bargain?" I cut in, eager to be sure my plan had worked.

"I don't know what your 'bargain' was, but he gave me your—_the_—ashes, and told me you'd managed some last words about Heero knowing where to take them."

Hot damn! Unless I missed my guess, my lover would be coming to Euphoria—hopefully soon.

"Duo, where are you?"

I still wasn't ready to reveal my location over an open cell phone frequency. "Uh—can't tell you, Quat. The phones have ears, yanno."

"Oh. But surely it won't matter now—."

"Quat, I don't want Alexander or his people to _ever _find me. Tell Trowa I'll call back later—from a different cell number. I gotta cut this short before the Feds trace it. Just—get word to Heero that I'm alive, will ya? He'll know where to find me."

At least, I hoped he would.

"Duo—he's gone. He left right after the shooting—."

"Shit. Did he take a cell phone?"

"Yes."

"Good. Call and fill him in. Catch you later, Quat. Love ya!" I shut the phone and checked my watch again.

Five minutes even. No way the Feds could have triangulated on my location. They might have the general vicinity—but unless they'd been told about Euphoria, they were unlikely to show up here. It wasn't the kind of place my rap sheet would send people looking.

I walked back into the kitchen and Mary looked up questioningly. "How'd it go?"

"Good," I said, with a genuine smile, handing her back her phone. "Thanks for pushing me to make the call. I needed that."

"'Course you did," she chided. "How was the cute cop?"

"I didn't get to talk to him," I told her. "I never had his phone number. I called my buddy, Trowa. When you get right down to it, he was probably easier to convince than Heero would've been."

I grimaced a little, wondering how Heero would take the news that I was alive. Would he come straight here—or give Trowa his cell phone number so I could call him?

I had no idea. In fact, I didn't know whether he'd be elated or indifferent at the news.

Okay—yeah—he wouldn't be indifferent. I knew him better than that. He'd be very glad I was still alive, if only so he could stop feeling guilty. He hadda be blaming himself for my death—I knew that much about him.

I wondered then if Howard had gotten my note to him. I wondered—a lot of things.

The sudden beeping of the oven timer interrupted my muddled thoughts, and I rushed to take the tarragon chicken out and check to see if it was done, while Mary went out to continue waiting on tables, and Pops—well, he'd probably gone off with his fishing buddies to play some cards or something.

That was okay by me. I suddenly valued the privacy of that warm kitchen as never before. It was a place that felt cozy and safe, and if I was alone, I could let my mind paint a vivid picture of how I wanted my reunion with Heero to go.

I kind of imagined him showing up near sunset—probably heading for the trail along the cliffs, since that was where he'd proposed. If I timed it right, I could wait by the flat rock where we'd rested, and just let him walk right into my arms.

Yeah, it was a lovely fantasy. He'd have instinctively known what spot I was talkin' about, and when he got the call from Trowa, he'd practically fly there—desperate to see for himself that I was alive and well.

I'd melt into his arms, and he'd hold me so tight I could hardly breathe, whispering how much he loved me and that he'd never, ever let me go. And I'd tell him the same things.

Then we'd race back to my place and prove to each other how grateful we were to be back together. In bed.

_Hm—sounds kinda like a fortune cookie, huh? Heh, heh._

At any rate, I let my dreams just run away with me while I worked in the kitchen. And when I went back to my apartment that night, it was with high hopes.

* * *

Those hopes got me through that first night, and a couple of others. But when it'd been several days since the shooting at the courthouse and Heero hadn't shown up in Euphoria, I started to get discouraged.

He hadn't even called Wufei back, after repeated messages left on his voice mail.

I'd talked to Wufei, as well as Quat and Trowa, and he assured me his messages had begun as simply "call and check in," and later progressed to "Duo's alive—call me!"

And still, there'd been no contact. We were both getting worried—Wufei because he said Heero had been despondent—verging on suicidal—and me for the same reason, and a couple of others.

God—what if he'd just driven away from everyone and gone off to end it all? I'd fuckin' _die_. I checked in every day to make sure there'd been no word of his body being found.

But Chang assured me Heero had promised to be at his wedding—_holy shit, he an' Cathy were gonna tie the knot_! When I got over _that _shock, we talked more about how my lover gave his word he'd keep living and be there for the big event.

So Wufei was reasonably certain his friend would not have done anything drastic. I was, too—but it left me wondering what his reason was for not calling back.

Maybe when he got Chang's messages, he was so pissed at the Hell he'd gone through that he'd decided I wasn't worth the aggravation. Maybe he'd found out he was carrying a box of useless ashes and just dumped them in the nearest landfill and headed off on a vacation.

I still went out to the cliff every day—hoping he'd show up at the place where we'd promised each other forever, even if it was just to punch my lights out and tell me we were through.

But he didn't come, and my hope faded more with every passing day.

When I walked into the kitchen almost a week after the verdict came in, I was ready to chuck it all, convinced Heero was never coming. I mean, fuck—he knew I was alive. If he wanted to be with me, it wouldn't have taken him this long to figure out where I was.

"Oh, I was getting worried—it got so late," Mary said over the noisy rock station on the radio, looking up from filling bowls with peanuts for the bar.

"Sorry."

"No luck?" she asked, per our usual routine.

_God, my daily rejections were a routine now!_

I shrugged and grunted a reply as I took off my coat.

"Don't give up hope," she urged, backing out the kitchen door with the tray of bowls in front of her.

_Hope? I'd have to have some, before I could give it up._

I opened a beer, intent on drowning my sorrows.

"Oh, sorry!" I heard her chirp to someone. "Didn't hear the little door chime."

A couple of minutes later, Mary came back into the kitchen with wide eyes and an even wider smile. "He's here!" she hissed excitedly.

My heart almost stuttered to a halt. "Heero?"

"Of course, Heero," she teased. "I'm makin' a pot of coffee. Why don't you go out and serve him?"

She winked devilishly at me.

"I—uh—yeah," I stammered, stepping past her out of the kitchen and just drinking in the sight of my lover, his perpetual scowl in place as he examined the menu. He looked—breathtaking—as always.

I walked closer, my hands already a bit unsteady, and in a puckish moment, I set the bottle I was holding in front of him on the counter, and slipped around to stand next to him.

"I didn't order this—," he muttered, not raising his head.

"I know," I crooned softly. "It's on the house." I swallowed to moisten my throat. "How 'bout after dinner I take you from Euphoria to nirvana?"

He looked stricken—and I could see him visibly pull himself together before looking up at me, his face ashen.

"Took you long enough to get here. I'm glad Chang managed to reach you, though—."

And then I realized he had no idea what I was talking about.

He shook his head. "You—you're dead!"

_Whoa. Apparently he hadn't gotten Chang's messages. _

"Yeah—that's what they told me when I woke up in the hospital."

I wasn't quite sure what to say or do next. I mean, he hadn't jumped up and hugged the stuffing outta me, or thrown anything. And the expression on his too-pale face was impossible to read.

I tried explaining what Alexander had done—how he'd lied his ass off to everyone and kept me from contacting them. I even explained about the ashes, and how I'd counted on him to bring them to Euphoria.

And finally, I just blurted out what was on my mind. "I just—need to know—."

"Know—?"

"About us—."

He still looked a bit baffled, so I tried to spell it out. "You really came here just to bring the ashes, didn't you? To—say goodbye."

"Well—yes."

_Oh shit. There it was. My worst nightmare. He'd done his grieving and was ready to let go._

Next thing I knew, my mouth was on autopilot, as I tried to assure him that I'd understand if he'd decided I wasn't worth the trouble any more. It was a total lie; if he told me to fuck off, I was thinking of just curling up into a ball and dying.

He stood up from the stool, his unreadable gaze raking me from head to toe, as I rambled blithely on, feeling a trembling that started somewhere in my gut and radiated towards my fingertips.

_God, I was going to just crumble if he turned me away now._

Then all at once, he pulled me into his arms, his lips crushing mine into silence as he all but squeezed the breath out of me.

_Oh thank God! Please, let this be forgiveness and not a goodbye kiss—._

Then he buried his face against my shoulder, clutching me even tighter, and I felt sobs shaking his entire frame.

"Jesus, 'Ro—I'm sorry!" I gasped, my own eyes filling with tears as I pulled back enough to see them running down his face. It just about killed me to see the raw pain in his eyes, and I brushed his tears away and kissed his face, before pulling him close again. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted him to keep it from you—not from the very beginning—an' I'd have called sooner, but—."

And then I was crying, too, and he was the one shushing me and calming me, as he gradually regained control of himself.

I felt awful. How could I have doubted his love for me? How could I have thought he'd just forget me and move on? I fuckin' _knew _how deeply the man felt his emotions, once he let himself. And that made me all the more aware of how much he'd suffered the past few weeks.

As much as I'd missed him, I'd at least known he was alive. He'd had no such comfort since that day at the courthouse.

"God—if I'd known how much you were hurting—I'd have gotten away sooner—called—_something._"

"Well what the fuck did you think?" he asked sternly. "That I'd just get over you an' move on—? Jesus, Duo—you don't know how deep inside me you are!"

"Not as deep as I wanna be," I purred into his ear. "I missed you so much."

I felt like I had a lot of making up to do—for the pain he'd endured, and the loneliness, and the guilt. And I was ready to do anything for him—anything to take the hurt look out of his eyes and bring a smile back to his face.

Of course, now that he was back in my arms, I was pretty sure there was nothing I _couldn't _do.


	58. The Afterlife

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)"

A/N: This fits with chapter sixty nine of Witness.

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty Eight: The Afterlife

Dear Diary:

Heero's and my reunion was everything I'd dreamed of and more. No, of course it didn't go exactly like I'd fantasized, since I didn't meet him up on the cliffs. And there were some scary moments at first—like when I thought he was gonna just tell me goodbye.

But once we got past both of our insecurities and uncertainty, we resumed our relationship with a bang. (Hell, yeah, he banged the livin' shit outta me! I maintain my opinion—the man is a _God_.)

And after the mind blowing sex, and then some more of the same—and maybe a bit more—well, we eventually got around to talking.

That was the part that worried me the most, really, trying to figure out where to go from here.

Before the sex, Heero had asked if I wanted to stay in Euphoria, pointing out that with Treize dead, I really didn't have to. And I'd told him I liked it there, and reminded him how we'd talked about living near the ocean, but then I said mostly I just wanted to be wherever he was. That was all that really mattered to me.

Of course, shortly thereafter, my back had hit the mattress, and all coherent thought was long gone.

But after we got reacquainted with each other's bodies, we had to start thinking about living again—and _making _a living. Of course, that was when he told me Zechs had provided for me, and that I only had to keep workin' at The Gull's Wing if I wanted to.

Funny thing was, I _did _want to, and not just because I owed a debt to Mary and Pops for taking me in the way they had. I really liked those two, and I genuinely _loved_ cooking. I also loved the ocean, and the peace I'd found in that small town and in Pops' kitchen, even during the most stressful of days.

At any rate, as soon as I said I wanted to stay in Euphoria and keep my job at the restaurant, Heero started making it happen. He went back to the city to wrap things up with his boss, punch Alexander's lights out again (_God, I love my man_), and bring me back the money and letter from Zechs (_yeah, he told me Howard came through for me—and I came through for him, providing "Angel" for both the password and my new pet name_), as well as what remained of my personal belongings. And _his_.

I hadn't been sure he'd want to stay in Euphoria with me. I sort of thought he might keep his job awhile longer and come up on weekends or something. But he made it very clear, he wasn't about to spend that much time away from me. _Thank God!_

When he got back, he made me sit down and read the letter from Zechs, and I fuckin' cried my eyes out over it. A damned romantic sap—that's what Zechs was—all that talk about what he'd learned from me, and how wonderful I was. But I was eternally grateful for that final kindness from him. He left me money to live on, a way to protect myself, and his blessings on moving forward with my life and loving someone else.

_Go figure._

He was a jealous bastard when he was alive. But in his last will and testament, he wanted me to find someone else to share the rest of my life with. He didn't want me to be alone. I think that was the most unselfish thing he ever did, and it made me love him all the more.

Of course, he was still a distant second to Heero. I loved my blue-eyed cop with all my heart. More than Zechs, and more than Trowa. He—_completed_ me. I would've killed for him (and did), and I would've gladly died for him (almost did _that_, too)—but more than anything, I wanted to live for him and with him—pretty much forever.

Ugh, I was turning into a sentimental sap, huh?

At any rate, Zechs' money enabled us to buy a nice house near the beach. It sat up high on a bluff, with a great view of the ocean and the shoreline. We even had a porch and a deck—complete with a Jacuzzi (duh!)—and my own little herb and veggie garden.

And if Heero noticed a few less-than-legal plants growing in one corner, he never complained to me about it. Heh, heh. Maybe he was just happy I'd never gone back to smoking cigarettes, after being forcefully weaned off them during the healing of my lung. Or maybe he was just so freakin' smitten with me, he'd pretty much let me get away with anything. I made it a point not to abuse his indulgence—the man was just too good to me.

But speaking of "anything," he totally agreed to let me sunbathe in the nude any time I wanted. Of course, with our own, private beach, it wasn't like anyone besides him would ever see me. In fact, he said he might even be willing to try it himself, when the weather warmed up; but then I'd always known he wasn't half the prude Chang was.

In addition to the lovely house and secluded beach, we also had enough acreage to satisfy Heero's need to maintain a "perimeter." Yeah, he was still a little paranoid about my safety. I mean, c'mon—he'd watched me "die." Of course he had issues when it came to security for me. And honestly, it was kinda nice to have him fuss so much—it showed me our new life was as precious to him as it was to me. I felt more loved than ever in my life.

Of course, his perimeter didn't keep _everything _out; we got to see some pretty cool wildlife. There were wild blueberry bushes all over the hilltop, and one time we saw a bear out there eating from them—far enough away that we hadda get binoculars to be sure what he was. And that was okay with me—I'd been close enough for a lifetime!

We hadn't seen any moose, but that suited me just fine, too. Again—been there, seen that, and don't wanna repeat the experience any time soon. I liked my wildlife a little smaller and tamer—like the bunnies that hung out in my vegetable garden and pilfered carrot tops and lettuce when they got the chance. I was using them as an excuse to talk 'Ro into letting me get a dog, though I could probably have convinced him using the "watchdog" aspect of it, or even just batting my big, indigo eyes, heh, heh.

He only got his gun and offered to "eliminate the rabbit infestation" once, but when I nearly cried over the "poor, starving" little critters, he broke down and put it away. He'd probably just been yanking my chain, but I couldn't stand the thought of Peter, Flopsy and Mopsy ending up as hasenpfeffer—not after I'd spent hours sketching the furry little vandals.

Yeah, I was doing a lot of sketching lately—trying to catch images around our new home, as well as some memories I hadn't had time to put on paper before. I drew Wufei meditating, using my memory of that day at the lake, as well as Trowa and Quatre made up to look like Heero and me. There were a lotta moments along that journey I still wanted to put to paper before they faded into hazy images, or were lost altogether.

And while I was remembering, I thought to tie up a few loose ends as well. I owed Howie a car, having left his at the circus farm, and instead of just sending someone to fetch it, I ordered him up a brand new sports car. He'd always daydreamed about having a sleek little convertible some day, to get the babes to notice an old man like him. Thanks to Zechs' generosity, I was able to indulge him.

I was also able to send a sizeable donation to the Maxwell Church Orphanage, along with a note telling Father I wasn't quite as dead as he'd thought, and to hang onto what I'd heard was a totally _awesome _eulogy—for some far-off future date, I hoped. I thanked him for all he'd done for me, and told him I hoped the money would enable him to help other kids the same way. I had Heero add a quick note, assuring the good padre that the money was lawfully obtained and in no way associated with Zechs' illegal enterprises. I knew damned well the stubborn old priest would never accept it if he thought it was drug money—even if it would help him fight the drug dealers on the streets. His sense of honor was as clear-cut and unshakeable as Wufei's.

As for the rest of Zechs' money—we put most of it away for a rainy day—living on a portion of the interest it earned, and on the wages we made at our jobs.

Yeah—almost forgot to mention, after we settled into our new life, Heero got himself a part-time job assisting the local constable, which seemed to satisfy his need to contribute to society in some way. He'd been looking into a similar job in a town an hour or so away, but I got a little panicky about the potential danger, and he obliged me by taking the less risky job closer to home.

Okay—so maybe I had some issues of my own. After watching Heero nearly bleed to death in that SUV on the way to Euphoria, I guess I was entitled to be a bit on the overprotective side, too.

At any rate, by taking the job, Heero allowed the former constable to retire and hang out with Pops, for which both old men were eternally grateful. They'd been pals since childhood, and really wanted some time in their golden years to just hang out and be pals again. I was glad we could give them that.

And working only part-time hours gave Heero plenty of time to devote to his "girlfriend," the vintage car he was restoring in our roomy garage. I teased him pretty mercilessly about spending time with "that other woman," until he laid me down across the newly-replaced leather seat and fucked me senseless one evening.

I stopped being jealous—or even feigning jealousy—from that moment on.

Besides, he didn't call his car _Angel_, now did he? I still had it over that hunk of metal any day of the week!

I still got shivers when 'Ro called me that, by the way, since he used it rarely and in such a tone of reverence and adoration that it didn't even sound exaggerated. _Silly, romantic, sexy sap…_

I mean, if he'd called me Shini, it would've seemed weird, since that was Trowa's pet name for me. But Angel—well, even Zechs had only called me that a couple of times before I put a stop to it. When it fell from Heero's lips, though, it was—different. For him, I wanted to be better. I wanted to live up to the image he seemed to have of me. I _wanted _to be his angel.

Maybe that's why I was so determined to excel at cooking. I felt talented in Pops' kitchen—worthy of Heero's respect and love—like I had a skill worth polishing. It reminded me of when I first started at The Jungle. I hadn't realized how much I craved approval, until I felt the "rush" when I got thunderous applause. But after that, I really worked at my dancing and went out of my way to make the routines different. It wasn't just about going through the motions—it was about finding new ways to excite my audience.

The same thing applied to cooking. When I made 'Ro sample a new dish and his eyes lit up, and he gave me that little nod, or a thumbs up, I felt like a complete success. It made me want to keep impressing him, though sometimes I worried about how long I'd be able to keep it up.

But I soon learned that even when I made a meal that was an unmitigated disaster, Heero found something to praise about it. That's when I began to realize, he was impressed by me no matter what. I didn't _have _to keep trying so hard; his love and approval were unconditional. But then, I should've known that back when he'd said he'd forgive me a murder. The guy was totally head over heels. And mine! _All_ mine.

Ah—but to get back to the point—while I knew Heero was an adoring audience of one, I had no such self-assurance about Quatre, Trowa, Wufei and Catherine. And when my lover casually suggested we invite them to Thanksgiving dinner, I actually hesitated.

I'd never cooked a meal on that scale before—with all the side dishes and trimmings. And while I knew I had an aptitude for cooking, I wasn't sure I was up to the challenge. I started to say so, stammering out excuses and uncertainties, until 'Ro put a halt to my panic by bursting into laughter. He pointed out that our friends would be far less interested in the meal than they would be in the chance to see me face to face again, and I instantly realized he was right.

I hadn't seen any of them since the courthouse, and that awful day. We'd talked on the phone—but because of Alexander's continuing presence in the city, we hadn't wanted to visit there, or risk having our friends come to us.

"You sure it'll be safe?" I couldn't help asking. "If they were followed—."

"They won't be," Heero assured me. "I spoke to all four of them, and they understand how important it is that our location remains a secret. So I took the liberty of mailing off a couple of detection devices they can use to be sure their vehicles aren't tracked."

"You really _are _a boy scout," I teased, running my fingers through that unruly, sexy mop of hair. "A high-tech, spy-type boy scout."

He gave me a devilish smirk. "Is that _your _kind of boy scout?"

"You know it!"

We didn't get much planning done after that—because I got busy taking the "be prepared" part of the motto very much to heart—.


	59. Ever After

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, _vague references to long- past NCS_, a naughty Duo (i.e. he has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded to the "pure, chaste" version of Duo, he might be a bit dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters in here…hey, Quat's a lawyer…how much lower could he get?

Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2)"

A/N: This fits with chapter sixty nine of Witness. Sadly, my computer died, and I had to resort to the laptop. So, all my notes for this chapter are stuck on that other hard drive until I can recover them. I hope I hit all the main points I'd intended in this. And yes, it is the end of Diary. However, I am not above doing the occasional one-shot...maybe when they get that dog, or spend their first anniversary together...

DIARY OF A PROTECTED WITNESS

Chapter Fifty Nine: Ever After

Well, Diary, things are winding down after a truly wonderful Thanksgiving weekend.

Yep, the guys (and Cathy) stayed the whole four-day holiday weekend. In fact, they just left a couple of hours ago, and 'Ro and I spent the time relaxing and talking about how great it was having everyone here.

Uhm, well we did that right _after _we fucked like bunnies in the hot tub to make up for lost time. Y'see, we couldn't really let go and be wild and crazy with guests in the house, now could we? Any lovemaking we snuck in during the weekend was kind of quiet and tender—rather than reckless and noisy.

We had a little catching up to do.

And _then _we talked about how much we had enjoyed the company.

It was pretty awesome to actually see everyone again. And I think they felt the same about me. Even Chang was a lot warmer and fuzzier than before—though I wasn't sure if that was joy at seeing me, or Cathy's mellowing influence.

(And speaking of fuzzy…the hair on my legs had _finally _grown out to normal length again. I'd thought it never would…not when it got to that "itchy" stage. Never again!)

Anyhow, our reunion was a wonderful event. There was a lot to catch up on.

Now, I suppose I could write about Alexander's latest exploits, or that police captain chick…or even what became of the blonde bitch and psycho-Une. But those details faded into the background, importance-wise.

What really mattered was what my _friends _had going on in their lives.

Of course, Cathy and Wufei's engagement was a prime topic of conversation. I countered their smart-assed suggestion that I go as a bridesmaid with an offer to entertain at Cathy's bachelorette party. That sort of evened the score, at least in my estimation.

I also invited them to tie the knot right here in Euphoria, when the time comes. It's a wonderful place…perfect for making plans, seeing them through, or living out dreams. It really has the ideal name, doncha think?

My next hot topic was Trowa's future. Man, he was talkin' about being a counselor—working with kids—and I just knew right away he'd be great at it. Hell, he was great at anything he put his mind to; you only had to see him on the high wire once to know that. But after he'd whipped me into shape, I knew firsthand how good a listener he was, and how skilled at giving sound advice. He'd be the best friend those kids could have.

I was glad to hear he and Quatre were talking about moving in together. It reassured me their relationship was still solid—still moving forward and becoming deeper and more permanent. They both deserved the kind of happiness 'Ro and I had found, and I hoped they'd discover it together, if they hadn't already.

I managed to snag a moment alone with Tro' during the first evening, to thank him for all he'd done for me through the years. He's a modest bastard, y'know…doesn't seem to realize how fuckin' special he is. But between me an' Quat, I think we're gettin' the message across.

I got a little one-on-one time with Wufei as well, a moment to thank him for looking after Heero while I was "dead." I knew how hard those weeks had been on my lover, and he'd told me how his partner dragged him back into the land of the living—kicking and screaming. I was eternally grateful to Chang for sticking to the promise he'd made to be there for 'Ro—not that I ever doubted him. Like I'd said earlier, the man had a sense of honor and duty that rivaled Father Maxwell's—or vice versa.

But I needed 'Fei to know his loyalty hadn't gone unnoticed—that I understood how he'd come through for me, and would never forget it. I got a chance to tell him so, as well as let him know how happy I was for him and Cathy. I was a bit surprised when he took me up on the single room, knowing how old-fashioned he was. But considering how careful I was not to tease or be suggestive about it, I think he knew I wanted him to feel safe in the knowledge that none of us would ever presume anything improper between him and the lady he loved—nor would we judge or make a big deal about it. They had every right to whatever sleeping accommodations they chose, without feeling self-conscious or embarrassed.

I mean, shit—after putting up with 'Ro and me, and all our mushiness and flirting and making out—Wufei and Cathy certainly deserved our support and discretion.

Ah, let's see—in other news, Tro' brought me my old priest's outfit from The Jungle. And what a lot of memories _it _brought back! That was the first costume I designed on my own, specifically for the act. It was awhile after Trowa got me started dancing that we heard the song "Personal Jesus," by Depeche Mode, and I pointed out how much potential it had.

Trowa kinda laughed at the idea. While he admitted the "reach out—touch faith" line had a definite "come-on" feel to it, he wasn't sure about the whole concept bein' a little too, well, blasphemous. I mean, yeah, ya could get a bunch of drunk guys all worked up over "Closer," with its extremely explicit lyrics. But bring the name "Jesus" into the mix, and it sorta struck too close to home as far as pointing out that they were indulging their baser instincts.

But Tro' suggested I go for it anyway—work up an outfit and dance to fit the music, and try it out on him. If he liked it, he'd recommend to Noin that I perform it solo the next night we worked.

I spent hours on that act—the clothes and the moves—and the whole time, I wasn't at all sure I could pull it off. It _was_ pretty fuckin' irreverent! And in all honesty, I could almost _feel _Father Maxwell's disapproval, as I made up the costume and the routine. It would've shocked the shit out of the poor, virtuous man!

But when I first performed the act for Trowa, I thought he'd swallow his tongue, he got so worked up! The guy fuckin' raved about it—and me—and how creative and hot I was. He said he was gonna make me pick all the music from then on, and that we'd choreograph the routines together. He told me I was too talented to just tag along doing the same old stuff.

Like I keep sayin', Trowa just didn't know how much he'd done for me. Every word of praise just reinforced the notion that I could make something of myself off the streets. He really helped my confidence and my belief in my own skills. And yet, he claimed I'd done the same for him. I guess _that's _what friends are really for, eh?

Anyhow, while I have no intention of going back to stripping for a living, I sure am willing to do it for Heero. I kinda wonder if he'd appreciate a little private show, maybe for his birthday, or Christmas or something. Yeah, I could make him a gourmet dinner—with myself as dessert. Yummy. And since I know he isn't too hung up on religion, I feel pretty confident in not offending him.

As if I could!

To get back to my main topic of thought/conversation/obsession…Heero just continues to be everything to me. Our guests hadn't been gone an hour before he reminded me how addicted I am to his body as well as his mind.

I can't even describe the way I feel—it's so—intense. I just know that even with our ups and downs, we're gonna make it together. I trust him on a level I've never trusted anyone before, except maybe Trowa. I mean, the way Heero was willing to chuck everything—his job and apartment—his whole fuckin' _life_—to come live with me in Euphoria (or wherever I'd ended up, according to him)—it just cemented my belief that he loved me more than anything.

And he continues to prove it, day after day, in the little things he does—like bringing me coffee in bed, or listening to my off-the-wall rambling about whatever crazy topic comes up. He's the soul of patience with me, most of the time. And even when he gets exasperated or annoyed, he does it with a tiny smirk and a gleam of adoration in his eyes that just never goes away. His love is just—all-encompassing, and unconditional, and freakin' _everlasting_!

Like mine. I've said it before, an' I'll say it again—I'd do anything for him. If he asked me tomorrow to pull up stakes and follow him to the North Pole, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I might bitch and moan the whole time, and in general be a whining pain in the ass—but I'd do it. I think he knows it, too.

He has to have noticed I'm getting better at saying "I love you," that's for sure! He freakin' _glows _every time I say it.

It took awhile, but it's finally begun to roll off my tongue almost effortlessly. I no longer flinch and watch for a meteor to fall from the sky and obliterate him just because I dare to say the words. (I do, however, make sure to remind him to look both ways crossing the street if I say it as he's headed out. Never hurts to be thorough, y'know.)

And the small effort is worth it. He needs to hear those words; they are my way of proving I'm his without reservation. I know he understands, because sometimes, when he doesn't think I'm paying attention, I can see the way he looks at me. It's as if he knows my heart and soul are his, and he's a little awed by the knowledge.

I dunno why. I mean, honestly, I'm just a street kid. And yeah, maybe I've made something of myself, and I've got some skills and talents. But compared to _him_—? I wish he knew how undeserving I feel now an' then.

I do. I feel like he's so damned special I don't deserve him. But don't try to take him away, cuz sure as shit, I'd kill anyone who made the attempt! And I am totally not exaggerating!

Well, time t'sign off. I'm pretty wiped out after four days of company and our afternoon sex marathon…not that I couldn't muster up a little enthusiasm for another round or two when 'Ro finishes locking up and comes to bed… How did he say it back in that House of Horrors—"any time, any place?" Yeah. My sentiments exactly!

G'night!

_P.S. Duo's adorable when he sleeps—his arm flung carelessly across his forehead and the blankets all bunched around his long, lean, naked legs. (drool) I meant to get up here sooner, knowing he was pretty exhausted from our busy weekend. But securing our perimeter takes time—and Duo's safety is too important for me to take shortcuts._

_Of course, when I got up here, I noticed this journal lying wide open on the nightstand, and I couldn't resist a quick peek into the inner workings of the mind I love so much. You know, once a detective, always a detective._

_At any rate, assuming Duo ever looks back and realizes I made a footnote, I hope he can forgive my prying. But I have to say, for the record, he should never feel undeserving—especially of me! He apparently doesn't realize that he brought my heart to life when he stole it. Before that, I merely existed. Meeting Duo was like rediscovering life! Falling for him was like waking up from the dead! He practically breathed animation into me!_

_But he's a modest little shit, and doesn't take compliments very well. (And after he said much the same about Trowa! Go figure.)_

_So all I can do to convince him of his worth is to adore him, cherish him, relish every moment we have, and say "I love you" as often as my Angel needs to hear it—the same things he does for me. _

_Amen._


End file.
